


A Privilege to Love You

by Em_hrtly



Series: Pete's the Dad, Boogie Woogie Woogie [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Irondad, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Rated T for language, Single Parent Peter Parker, Teen Pregnancy, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_hrtly/pseuds/Em_hrtly
Summary: Follow Peter through his first year as a single teenage father, with Tony by his side every step of the way.Sequel to "To See a World in a Grain of Sand"
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Pete's the Dad, Boogie Woogie Woogie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766566
Comments: 175
Kudos: 269





	1. July - It Takes a Village

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody, and welcome to the second installment of my "Pete's the Dad, Boogie Woogie Woogie" series! If you haven't read the first part, I would highly recommend you do that now, otherwise this fic will likely make very little sense!
> 
> I'm uploading chapter one today and will be uploading chapter two tomorrow. After that, I'll be attempting to stick to weekly Saturday uploads, so long as real life doesn't get in the way too much!
> 
> Thanks for clicking and please enjoy!

In the months that separated finding out that he was going to be a father and him actually becoming one, Peter had done a lot of Googling. Like, a lot. Probably an unhealthy amount of Googling, to be perfectly honest, although he wasn’t even sure if that was a quantifiable _thing_.

Quantifiable or not, whenever he wasn’t in school, Spider-Manning or having an existential crisis about the reality of becoming a walking teen-parent statistic, he was Googling.

_How do you hold a baby?_

_What is swaddling?_

_What temperature should the baby formula be?_

Shockingly, there hadn’t been much in his almost eighteen years that had prepared him for fatherhood – he’d never even held a baby until the nurse had placed Abigail into his unsure arms. His mother had been an only child, meaning he didn’t have any aunts or uncles on her side to give him cousins, and May and Ben had never had children, so Peter had always been the baby of the family. And sure, there had been a few teen pregnancies at Midtown; despite it being a school for students gifted with talents in science and technology, the student population wasn’t immune to the common pitfalls of kids being excited to lose their virginity and all the usually unlikely, albeit possible, repercussions.

Peter supposed he and MJ were a part of that infamous group now too.

But it wasn’t like the teen moms at his school brought their babies to class, passing them around so that the next potential teen parent could get a feel for holding a baby. Most of the girls who became pregnant at Midtown either moved schools or dropped out altogether, and most of the teen dads did the same, or stayed in school and pretended like nothing ever happened.

The crux of the matter was that there had been very few opportunities during Peter’s life for him to interact with children, especially babies.

Therefore, the excessive Googling before Abigail was born had felt more than necessary.

But, somehow, in those first few hours of having his daughter home with him and Tony at the Tower, everything he had learnt from the world wide web basically went completely out of the metaphorical window.

There were some things no parenting forum could tell you, and you just had to figure out for yourself. And Peter realised that fact _real quick._

Like how being a parent to a newborn was terrifying.

As he put Abigail down in her crib during their first night at the Tower as a family of three, he was frightened to take his eyes off of her, even for a second; irrationally terrified at what might happen if he did. At the hospital, he’d had the support of all the doctors and nurses that knew this shit like the back of their hand, but at home, he was all alone. Abby’s life was literally in his hands, and _that_ was fucking terrifying.

What if she stopped breathing? What if the doctors had missed something and she was sick? All of the parenting forums said that he needed to sleep whenever she slept, but how could he leave her undefended like that? Sure, F.R.I.D.A.Y. was always keeping an eye on things – no need for baby monitors with an integrated AI – but technology wasn’t perfect, she could miss something.

Or, how terrifying feeding a newborn could be. When he fed Abigail, he couldn't look away; constantly aware of making sure she was suckling, but not too fast, and that she wasn’t taking in any air. And when he winded her, was he patting her back too firmly? Was that a normal amount of spit up or was something wrong? Had _he_ done something wrong?

Tony caught on to Peter’s anxieties straight away, of course. The elder man had an uncanny ability – almost a Peter-Tingle of his own – to know exactly how Peter was feeling at any given time.

“You’re doing great, Pete,” Tony said softly, leaning against the doorframe of Peter’s room as Peter stood and watched Abby breathe, her tiny chest rising and falling perfectly as she slept in the crib they had set up beside Peter’s own bed.

_Up. Down. In. Out._

_Up. Down. In. Out._

Peter let out a long sigh, allowing himself to flop down until he was sitting on his bed. After a few moments, he felt the bed dip next to him as Tony joined him, but still didn’t look away from Abby’s peaceful face.

“How do people do it?” Peter asked after a while, “ever take their eyes off of them?”

Tony gave a small chuckle as he wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Well, I can't speak for parents of newborns… But I think it’s just about trusting your instincts; you’d know if something was wrong, Pete,” Tony said, as though reading Peter’s thoughts. “And then, when they get older, you have to trust them too,” he continued, giving Peter’s shoulders an extra squeeze.

Peter shifted until his head was resting against Tony’s shoulder, trying to push away his anxiety to allow himself to relish in his first evening home with his daughter.

“It’s scary,” Peter whispered. “Amazing,” he rushed to add, “but scary.”

“I know, Pete,” Tony replied, rubbing his hand up and down the kid’s arm soothingly, “I know. But, you’ve got this, kiddo. There’s no other person better suited to this job than you because you’re Abby’s dad, and you’re going to be amazing. You already are,” he finished softly.

Peter closed his eyes, allowing Tony’s words to wash over him and soothe his worries.

“Okay,” Tony said after a moment, giving Peter one final squeeze before pulling away, allowing his hand to remain on the kid’s shoulder, “it's late. Your kid’s asleep and mine should be too,” he winked, giving Peter’s shoulder a playful shove.

“Look who’s talking,” Peter said back playfully.

“Do as I say not as I do, kiddo,” Tony quipped as he stood, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on top of Peter’s head before leaning into the crib to give the same gentle treatment to Abby. “Sleep tight, Pete. And wake me if you need me, okay? I’ve got you, and I take my grandpa duties _very_ seriously,” Tony joked, but Peter could hear the hidden message behind the words. _I’m here for you. You’re not doing this alone. Lean on me when you need to._

“I will,” Peter smiled, “thanks, Tony.”

After Tony had left – closing the door to Peter’s room most of the way, but leaving a small gap, just as teen preferred – Peter got ready for bed quickly and settled himself under the covers, positioning himself so that he was facing Abby’s crib.

He closed his eyes, willing the sleep that he so desperately needed to come; it had been a long day, and he knew Abby would likely wake up in need of a feed in a couple of hours or so. Plus, after Tony had put them off today, Peter was pretty sure that Pepper and Rhodey would be over in the morning as early as was socially acceptable, likely followed close behind by the slightly more morning-phobic Happy and Bruce. Peter was also pretty sure his phone held a couple of unread messages from Ned, too, who like everybody else was desperate to meet _#BabyStark_.

Despite his anxieties, the thoughts of his family and the sound of his baby breathing steadily beside him lulled Peter to sleep within a few minutes. And when he woke an hour and a half later to Abigail’s hungry cries, he found he didn’t mind at all.

* * *

Peter woke slowly the next morning, the natural light of the rising sun rousing him from sleep gently. He wanted to roll over, cover his eyes with his pillow, and go back to sleep. He’d never been a morning person – every school day had begun with an internal battle; get up with his alarm and make it to the subway on time or hit snooze and sprint. _Spider-Man needs the cardio_ , Peter would justify to himself as he fell into the seat of his first period just in time for the first bell.

Although to be fair, what teenager was a morning person?

_The ones with kids_ , Peter thought to himself sarcastically as he heard Abby start to rouse in the crib next to him.

Stifling a groan, Peter dragged himself out of bed and towards the en suite bathroom, getting himself ready for the day and dressing in comfortable sweats whilst listening for sounds of Abby slowly waking up in the next room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., time, please?” Peter mumbled before splashing some cold water on his face.

_“Good morning, Peter. The time is currently six thirty-four a.m. Would you like me to start the coffee machine?”_ the AI replied quietly.

“Ugh, yes please, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Thank you.”

After attempting and failing to get his bedhead under control, Peter made his way back into his bedroom, a smile lighting up his face at the sight of his daughter that greeted him as he leaned over Abby’s crib.

“Good morning, baby girl,” Peter whispered, using his hand to rub gentle circles on his daughter’s belly as she began to fuss. “You see these bags?” Peter asked, referencing the dark circles under his eyes, “those are your fault,” he teased, surprising himself with how easily chattering to his baby daughter came. “Lucky daddy loves you more than sleep, huh? Hard to believe, I know, but it’s true,” Peter smiled. Abby, seemingly unimpressed with Peter’s chatter, began to cry in earnest. “Okay, okay, message received _loud_ and clear, little bug,” Peter conceded, the nickname coming naturally as he gathered the girl in his arms and made his way over to the changing table on the far side of the room.

Once he had Abby changed and into a fresh onesie – grey with little white elephants, one that Tony had picked out – Peter made his way to the kitchen. Being awkwardly manhandled into a fresh diaper and onesie by her inexperienced father had done nothing for Abby’s mood, and the girl continued to cry as Peter attempted to make her a bottle one-handed.

“Need a hand there, kiddo?”

Tony stood in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling at the scene before him. He was still in his pyjamas; the plaid bottoms and long-sleeved t-shirt making the man look almost laughably domestic.

“Shit,” Peter sighed, leaning against the counter as he waited for the bottle to cool to the correct temperature. “Sorry, Tony, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

Tony chuckled good-naturedly as he walked over, taking over bottle prepping duty so that Peter could concentrate on soothing Abigail. “I’m pretty sure _she_ meant to wake up anyone in a thirty-mile radius that could make her a bottle as quickly as possible.”

After a few more minutes, the bottle was finally to the correct temperature – thank you Google – and the penthouse was once again bathed in quiet as Abby enjoyed her breakfast in Peter’s arms. Peter looked on longingly as Tony poured himself a coffee, desperate for the caffeine F.R.I.D.A.Y. had mentioned earlier, but not confident enough to feed Abigail one-handed yet. His caffeine needs would have to wait until his baby had been fed and winded.

“I’ll save you some, don’t worry,” Tony teased, noticing Peter’s gaze on his cup.

“You can go back to bed if you like, you know. We’ll be okay. I’m sorry we had you up so early,” Peter said sincerely, shooting Tony an apologetic look.

“Don’t sweat it, kid, I’m pretty sure it’s par for the course as far as babies are concerned. You don’t have to be sorry,” Tony reassured. “Besides, Pepper has already text me this morning letting me know that her and Rhodey will be over at some time before nine. This way, I get to spend an hour cuddling my granddaughter before those leeches come over and hog her all for themselves.”

Peter chuckled at the man’s theatrics, a warm feeling flooding through him as he relished in how much Tony loved Abby already.

It was a couple of hours later, as the pair relaxed in the living room with a dosing Abby in Tony’s arms and the morning news on low volume in the background, that F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced the arrival of their first visitors.

“ _Boss, Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes have just entered the building and are on their way up now,_ ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said quietly, so as not to disturb the settled baby – part of the _Spider-Baby’s Baby_ protocol that Tony had installed.

Tony gasped dramatically as he gazed down at Abby, his finger held in her tiny fist. “Did you hear that, Abby? Your mean aunt and uncle are coming to steal you away from me and your daddy, can you believe that?”

Peter chuckled at the man’s antics as he heard the elevator doors open down the hall, listening as two sets of footsteps stepped out onto the floor.

“I’ll buy you a super fluffy blanket if you throw up on Rhodey,” Peter heard Tony whisper conspiratorially to Abby, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Tony, stop trying to bribe the baby,” Peter laughed as the elder man looked up, eyes filled with mirth.

Tony shrugged unapologetically. “Worth a shot,” he winked.

Rolling his eyes, Peter stood as Pepper and Rhodey entered the living room.

“Peter,” Pepper breathed as she moved to pull him into a tight hug. She stepped back, holding Peter’s head in her hands as if to get a good look at him. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Tired,” Peter laughed, “but good, thanks.”

Pepper chuckled in return, leaning in to kiss his cheek before stepping away to make room for Rhodey.

“Yeah, I hear sleep is to babies what three square meals a day is to Tony: a foreign concept,” Rhodey teased as he stepped forward to shake Peter’s hand, earning him an incredulous “I heard that Platypus!” from Tony. “Congratulations, Peter.”

“Thanks, Rhodey.”

“Oh my goodness,” Pepper whispered as she made her way over to the sofa that Tony was sitting on, seating herself next to him carefully to avoid jostling the baby in his arms unnecessarily. “Hello, Abigail,” the woman whispered, stroking the head of the dosing girl.

Rhodey made his way over to Tony’s other side, crouching down beside the arm of the sofa so that he was on Abigail’s level, the whirring of his leg braces only audible to Peter’s sensitive hearing. “Well, consider one of the world’s great mysteries solved, Pep,” the man began, “Tony Stark _can_ get out of bed before noon and all it takes is the screaming of a newborn.”

“Har har, hilarious. Abby is something worth getting up for, boring SI meetings are not,” Tony argued. “Only my human babies are worth that kind of effort, isn’t that right Pete?”

Peter simply rolled his eyes and smirked at the elder man, his chest flooding with warmth at the comment.

The rest of the morning was spent with the group settling in the living room. Peter made coffee whilst Abigail was passed between Pepper and Rhodey and showered with cuddles and attention from each of them.

The girl was in Peter’s arms, being rocked gently as she grizzled, when Happy and Bruce – who had been living in his own quarters at the Tower since their final battle with Thanos – joined their party around noon, the former carrying two take-out bags full of Delmar’s finest in his hands having made the pit-stop as he passed through the city. 

It was a couple of hours later, as the group sat spread out of the sofas with their stomachs full and Abby down for a nap in Peter’s room – the teen easily keeping a close eye on her with a live-feed streamed straight to his phone through F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s cameras – that the topic of MJ was brought up.

“I don’t really know what happened,” Peter said, nursing his third coffee of the day in his hands as he filled the others in on what had gone down at the hospital. “She just… left. Like, I knew she wouldn’t be sticking around, obviously, she’d said that all along, but… I don’t know… I just wasn’t expecting it to be so abrupt I guess.” He shrugged. “Silly me,” he smiled sadly, sipping his drink and taking the opportunity to gather himself.

“You’re not silly for hoping for the best, Peter,” Pepper said sadly.

“It would have been the best for me, probably,” Peter conceded, “but not for MJ, I don’t think. Some people just don’t want to be parents, and I get that, I totally do, but…”

“It doesn’t make her leaving like that any easier,” Rhodey supplied.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Pete sniffed. “It’s still sad, you know? Even though you know it’s coming… it’s still sad.”

“We know, buddy,” Tony agreed sadly, pulling the teen into his side with one hand and ruffling his hair with the other. “But you’ve still got us. You and Abby will always have us.”

“Exactly, kid,” Rhodey added, “Tony’s been trying and failing to get rid of us for years. And from what I can see, Abby’s already much better behaved than he ever was.”

“She definitely seems to throw up and piss herself a lot less than Tony did in the early two-thousands,” Happy added, earning him a laugh from everyone but Tony, who was too busy trying to fake indignation.

“You’re fired, Happy,” Tony said, though Peter didn’t miss the twitch of his lips.

“You’re hired, Happy,” Pepper smirked.

“Thanks, boss,” Happy replied, ignoring Tony completely.

“You see what I’ve had to put up with all these years, Underoos?” Tony nudged Peter, a bright sparkle in his eyes.

And Peter did see it. He saw love and laughter and loyalty. Unbreakable bonds between the people in the room – a group he had been welcomed into with open arms, and that had now welcomed his daughter, too. He saw family. His family. And in that moment, as he sipped his lukewarm coffee, as they all laughed at Tony’s pseudo anger, as Abby slept soundly a few doors down… Peter knew that no matter what happened, he and Abby would be okay. They had people on their team, looking out for them, always.

He had heard other parents say that it takes a village to raise a child, and Peter had spent months resigning himself to that fact that that would never be him – with MJ leaving, he would be doing this alone.

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

His village might not be conventional; made up of a billionaire and his ex, a Downton Abbey super-fan, a big but sometimes not so friendly green giant and a honey bear, but it was his. And as unconventional as they were, he wouldn’t change them for the world.


	2. August - Peter's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a gentle vibration from the StarkWatch on his wrist that woke Tony. The hour on the display was ungodly – five forty-five a.m. – but necessary for what he had planned. Groaning, he blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom as his mind caught up to the present, thinking about what today was; August tenth, Peter’s eighteenth birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, everybody!
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your super kind comments regarding the first chapter; it's so ridiculously exciting (and in many ways, completely unbelievable!) that some of you have been waiting for and looking forward to the continuation of this series. I could say it over and over again but it literally fills my heart to know that you guys are enjoying this reading this series as much as I am writing it, so thank you! 
> 
> Right, let's get cracking! Here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy!

It was a gentle vibration from the StarkWatch on his wrist that woke Tony. The hour on the display was ungodly – five forty-five a.m. – but necessary for what he had planned. Groaning, he blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom as his mind caught up to the present, thinking about what today was; August tenth, Peter’s eighteenth birthday.

He rose quickly, showering in record time and dressing in comfortable black jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt before selecting his every-day Iron Arm from the closet. As quietly as he was physically able, he made his way into the hallway and towards Peter’s ajar bedroom door, slipping into the birthday boy’s room and over to the crib by the side of the bed. He was careful to tread softly – thankfully, Peter was a notoriously deep sleeper. Unfortunately, Abby was _not_ , and he didn’t want to risk startling the girl and having her wake Peter before he had the chance to enact his plan.

It had been a little less than a month since they had brought Abby home from the hospital, and so far, the baby hadn’t slept for more than two hours at a time, usually much less. Granted, she was a newborn, of course. Tony may not know much about children, but he knew that the particularly small ones tended to wake up pretty often. But with Abby, it seemed like more than just the usual sleepless nights that parents experienced during the first few months of their baby’s life – there were times where it seemed like nothing would settle the little girl, she would startle awake and cry and cry until she was exhausted. After sleeping for a little while, she would startle again, and the process would repeat.

They’d had her checked over by Dr Montgomery, just to make sure the restlessness wasn’t a sign of some kind of illness or condition, but all of the tests and examinations had come back clear. The doctor could only theorise that Abby was just a particularly fussy baby and that she would eventually settle.

And honestly, _eventually_ couldn’t come quickly enough.

It was bad enough having to watch Abby wail and cry and struggle frustratedly to sleep. But, where Abby was exhausted, so was Peter. The circles under the kid’s eyes had turned into deep bruises that seemed permanently etched onto his face.

Therein lied the first part of Tony’s birthday plan for the kid: let Peter sleep in late.

Tony was pretty sure that it was sheer dumb luck that allowed him to sneak into Peter’s room, pick Abby up out of her crib, and get her back to his own bedroom, without the girl crying. Looking down towards the baby in his arms, Tony could see the girl beginning to stir, although she wasn’t fully awake yet.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony whispered, stroking Abby’s chestnut curls softly, trying to lull the girl back towards unconsciousness so that she could catch up on some much-needed rest, “if Pete wakes up, make sure you immediately tell him that Abby is with me. I don’t want him seeing the empty crib and thinking something terrible.”

“ _Yes, boss_ ,” the AI replied, matching his hushed tone.

“We’re gonna let your daddy sleep in today, aren’t we, baby? Honestly, I think it’ll probably be the best birthday gift he’s ever gotten, and I bought him the Hogwarts Lego set with over six thousand pieces last year, so that’s really saying something,” Tony smiled, rocking his arms gently.

After a few minutes, when it was clear that Abby wouldn’t be falling back to sleep any time soon – although she wasn’t currently crying, so Tony counted that as a win – Tony made his way towards the family bathroom down the hall where Peter kept a spare set of changing essentials for Abby. There was no way in hell that Tony would get through a diaper change without some tears, tears that he knew would wake Peter thanks to the kid’s super senses.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., soundproof whichever room Abby and I enter, would you?”

The AI did as she was asked, which was great for Peter but did nothing to alleviate Abby’s earth-shattering cries for Tony.

Unsurprisingly, Tony’s ears were ringing by the time Abby was in a fresh diaper and onesie. _How does something so tiny make so much noise?_ He thought to himself, waiting until Abby had quietened down slightly before he made his way to the kitchen to prepare a bottle.

Abby cried the entire time as Tony prepared the formula, although thankfully Peter didn’t appear to hear anything.

_Thank you soundproofing._

Tony seated himself on one of the sofas in the living room and began feeding Abigail her breakfast, the silence a welcome relief to his abused eardrums.

Feeding Abby was one of his favourite things to do, not only because it was one of the few times that she was quiet. He loved watching as her bright brown eyes blinked up at him with developing focus. The little noises that she would make were intoxicating and addictive, Tony could never get enough of this little girl. It was frightening how strong the love he felt for Peter and Abby was. The Tony Stark from several years ago could have never imagined ever caring for something or someone as deeply and as all-encompassing as he did now. The old Tony would have been terrified to ever let anyone get that close.

What a sad life Tony’s would have been if not for the ray of light that was Peter Parker barrelling into it and completely commandeering it for himself.

Which was just one of the many reasons his kid deserved something special for his birthday.

Tony spent the rest of the morning entertaining Abby, rocking the girl gently as he wandered around the living room working half-heartedly on some projections and quietly explaining the intricate principles behind SI’s latest green energy project to the completely oblivious baby. Surprisingly, once she was fed and changed, Abby hardly cried, which until that morning, would have been considered totally out of character for the girl. Tony put the phenomenon down to a mix of pure exhaustion – surely even babies got tired of crying all the time – and the constant attention that Tony was providing soothing the girl.

As mid-morning approached, Tony instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to order all of Peter’s favourites from the local restaurant he knew the kid liked. It was a little pricey, so Peter was usually reluctant for Tony to order from there too often, despite the fact that the teen had become more accustomed to having the elder man spend money on him.

The food arrived in record time, thanks to Tony’s obscenely generous tip, and the man wasted no time in setting the waffles, pancakes, bagels and various fruits up on a tray with Abby held safely in his Iron Arm throughout the whole process. Once he had everything set up as he wanted it, he carefully balanced the tray in one hand while the other arm continued to cradle the wide awake Abby, and made his way towards Peter’s room, stopping briefly to grab the card he had hidden in his own room and adding that to the tray, also.

Quietly cancelling F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s now unnecessary soundproofing, Tony shouldered the door to Peter’s room open.

“Petey,” Tony said, drawing out the final consonant with a sing-songy voice as he stepped into Peter’s room.

“Ughhhh,” Peter groaned, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., mute Tony,” the kid mumbled, throwing a pillow over his head.

“ _I’ve been trying to do that for years Peter, and have as yet had very little success_ ,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, earning a chuckle from the lump on the bed.

“My own children, turned against me, how could they, Abs?” Tony joked, bouncing the girl in his arm. “C’mon, Pete! Wakey, wakey, birthday boy, Abby has a surprise for you!”

Tony watched, holding back a laugh as Peter bolted upright at the sound of his daughter’s name, looking from Tony to the crib and back again comically, his sleep-addled brain struggling to understand why Abigail wasn’t in her crib.

“How did you…” Peter trailed off.

“A ridiculously early alarm and a lot of luck,” Tony laughed, placing the food-laden tray on Peter’s lap as the kid sat up against the bed’s headboard. “Abby wanted to surprise you, though, and you know how she gets when she doesn’t get her way,” Tony continued, seating himself on the bed at Peter’s feet and sitting Abby in his lap as he supported her against his stomach.

“Teaching her your bad habits already, I see,” Peter quipped, tearing off a piece of pancake and popping it into his mouth before picking up and ripping open the card, glancing towards Tony with one eyebrow raised.

Tony simply shrugged and smiled, pushing away the oddly vulnerable feeling that bubbled up within him as he watched the card he had written to Peter from Abby being opened and read. His kid had turned him into such a sap, but he couldn't find it in himself to really care.

The card was garish, that was honestly the only way to describe it. Spider-Man themed, of course, because Tony was extra like that. It was covered in red and blue with a cartoon image of Spider-Man swinging into a birthday scene on the front. The words _Happy birthday, daddy! You’re my favourite superhero!_ written in yellow bubble text across the bottom.

Tony had kept the inside simple, signing _Love from Abby_ at the bottom of the generic birthday paragraph that came as standard with the card.

Tony waited with bated breath and Peter read and re-read the card, sniffing quietly before attempting to discretely wipe his eyes.

“Thanks, Abby,” Peter said quietly, putting the tray down on the bed beside him and leaning forward to plant a kiss on the top of girl’s head. He looked up, reaching up to wrap his arms around Tony with Abby sandwiched carefully between them. “Thanks, Tony,” he whispered into the elder man’s neck.

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” Tony said, wrapping his own free arm around Peter’s back and giving him a careful squeeze.

They stayed like that for a moment, both men collecting themselves before Tony gave Peter’s back a gentle pat. “Now come on,” he said, trying to ignore the way his voice cracked as Peter moved away, “eat up, Spider-Kid. Pepper will be over soon to set up for the party.”

“First of all,” Peter began, placing the card carefully on his bedside table before turning to stuff an entire syrup-soaked waffle into his mouth, “it’s not a party – don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s not – and secondly, you know she’s only using the set-up as an excuse to come and cuddle Abby for a few hours before everyone arrives,” Peter finished, smiling.

“ _First of all_ ,” Tony replied, matching Peter’s teasing tone and stealing a strawberry from Peter’s plate, “an organised gathering of friends combined with food and a special occasion such as, oh I don’t know, maybe the anniversary of a certain teenager’s birth, counts as a party whether you like it or not. And second, Pepper probably has the right idea. I expect this little one is going to be in high demand tonight. You know, it’ll be Clint’s first time meeting her.”

“I know!” Peter replied enthusiastically, “I can't believe that. I mean, I know it’s only been a month, but it feels like Abby’s been here forever, it’s crazy to think Clint hasn’t met her yet! Maybe he’ll have some advice for getting her to sleep more,” Peter laughed. Despite his joking tone, Tony knew there was some honest hope in Peter’s comment; Abby’s lack of sleeping schedule and seeming inability to sleep for longer than an hour or so weighed heavily on the both of them.

“Maybe,” Tony agreed placatingly, “although I’m not sure you should be taking parenting advice from someone whose offspring need a ‘no setting fire to things after five p.m’ rule.”

“Like you never lit a few fires when you were younger. Didn’t Rhodey once tell me a story about that time you…”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes, kid.”

* * *

As usual, Pepper was right on time, and once she had presented Peter with his gift; a handsome three-piece suit that, in Pepper’s words, would quote-unquote “come in handy”, the group spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon setting up for Peter’s party-but-not-a-party-party before their guests were due to arrive in the evening. Or rather, Tony and Peter ran around, doing as they were instructed while Pepper enjoyed cuddles with Abby on the sofa, using F.R.I.D.A.Y. as an overly-sophisticated walkie-talkie system to save her having to shout instructions around the penthouse. Tony couldn’t blame the woman, snuggles with the baby girl were an addictive pastime, despite the girl’s fussy tendencies.

How receiving a few deliveries – food, decorations, the cake – and blowing up a couple dozen Spider-Man themed balloons took all afternoon, Tony didn’t know, but before he knew it, the majority of their guests had made an appearance and were milling around the penthouse, serendipitously taking it in turns to have some Abby-time.

Rhodey had been the first to arrive, arms laden with a present that had been wrapped, naturally, with military-style precision. It was a new Lego set the kid had been going on about for weeks but had steadfastly refused to allow Tony to buy him. Tony had agreed begrudgingly, but only because he knew their friends would need a few ideas of what to get the kid for his birthday. Peter had been over the moon of course. The kid was a marvel. Rhodey could have bought him a cheap pair of socks and Tony’s still sure the same bright smile would have lit up his face, just the same.

Happy and Bruce came next. Bruce with a couple of as-yet-unpublished papers he’d been working on – the type of gift only a kid like Peter would get excited over (okay, so maybe Tony would kind of, definitely, absolutely be stealing those papers to read for himself at some point) – and a handwritten formula for a new type of webbing he thought might come in handy. And Happy with a small brown box, decorated only with a sticky-backed blue bow. Tony had looked at Peter with complete confusion as the kid removed the lid and immediately burst out laughing. Quickly moving to see what was inside the box that was so hilarious, Tony peered over Peter’s shoulder and saw… a rock. A rock in a cardboard box… inside another cardboard box.

“It’s a pet rock,” Happy explained proudly as Peter wiped tears from his eyes, “genuine and authenticated.”

Tony didn’t really get it – weren’t pet rocks a weird craze from the seventies? – but Peter loved it and that was what mattered.

Finally, there was Ned, who arrived like a tornado of energy that could rival Peter’s (on a day where Abby hadn’t kept him up half the night, that was), gift bag in hand that contained a handful of new games for him and Peter to play on the Switch, including the new Zelda instalment that Peter had been talking Tony’s ear off about any chance he got.

With Clint arriving a little later – the man had sent a text saying that he was going to be late, citing no particular excuse other than a blunt _kids._ followed by an obscene amount of eye roll emojis that was more than enough of an explanation for Tony – their little group busied themselves, stuffing their faces with party food and taking it in turns to coo at and cuddle Abby.

It was almost an hour later that the baby finally found herself back in her father’s arms. Tony watched as Peter, stood by the island in the kitchen, rocked the little girl steadily in one arm whilst shoving almost an entire slice of pizza into his mouth with the other before Abby proceeded to throw up unceremoniously all down the side of Peter’s shirt.

“Aw, man, Abby!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his slice of pizza back in the box whilst those around him laughed at his plight.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Tony began, taking pity on the kid, “you change you and I’ll change Abby.”

Tony made his way towards Peter’s room, grabbing a clean onesie as Peter followed, shutting the door behind himself.

“That was gross,” Peter complained as he flung his ruined shirt in the laundry basket.

“Eh, don’t sweat it, kid,” Tony said as he gently wrestled a squirming Abby into a pale blue onside decorated with jolly cartoon whales, “there was vomit at my eighteenth birthday party too, although for entirely different reasons…”

Tony was cut off as three things happened at the exact same moment; Abby began to cry, F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced that Clint had landed the Quinjet on the Tower’s helipad, and Tony was hit with an epiphany.

Suddenly, it all just clicked.

“Pete,” Tony began, sounding unsure, “did you just hear Clint land?”

Abby’s crying intensified, so much so that Peter almost had to shout to answer.

“Yeah, I can always hear the Quinjet land,” he replied as he moved to take his wailing daughter from Tony's arms “Why?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., soundproof this room,” Tony said, his eyes locked onto Abby.

The AI didn’t announce that she had done as she was asked, but the moment the room became soundproofed was clear. For starters, Peter began to fidget, something he always did whenever Tony soundproofed a room – the kid hated the feeling of one of his senses being almost completely cut off. But, more surprisingly, Abby’s fit of horrific the-world-is-ending crying stopped, almost completely.

Peter, still absentmindedly rocking Abby despite the fact her cries were now no more than pitiful grizzles, looked at Tony in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“You could hear the Quinjet…” Tony said slowly.

“Yeah, I think we’ve established that,” Peter teased. “You feeling okay, old man?”

“No, Peter… you could _hear_ the Quinjet…”

“Yeah, Tony, I know…”

“…and I think Abby could too.”

Peter stilled completely, looking at Tony in shock for a few, long seconds before his demeanour changed completely, switching from teasing son to concerned parent in a second.

“You think she has powers?” Tony nodded. Peter paused for a moment, trying to put the pieces together in his mind before his head snapped up, a look of understanding on his face. “That’s why she can’t sleep! If I think about it, I can hear the sounds on the street if I want to, but unless I’m having a dialled up day, I can mostly just ignore it…”

“But Abby can’t,” Tony finished, “she’s barely a month old, I doubt she has control over her senses like that yet. We’re putting her down to sleep in a quiet room, but she can still hear the city.”

“We literally live in the city that never sleeps…”

“…and that’s why she can’t either,” Tony finished.

Abby let out an adorable little yawn, her fists scrunching up and then relaxing as she dozed off in Peter’s arms as though she was helping out by confirming their theory.

“It explains this morning too,” Tony began, almost to himself, the man only going on to elaborate when he noticed Peter’s look of confusion. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. soundproof whichever room Abby and I were in while you slept this morning, so she didn’t wake you. She hardly cried, only when she was hungry or needed changing. I thought she was just settled because she was so tired but… I think it was because it was quiet.”

“Shit,” Peter whispered, looking down at the girl and then back up at Tony, “shit, Tony, how could I have not noticed? She’s been suffering this entire time, exhausted, barely sleeping, and I didn’t even realise!”

“Pete, this is no one's fault,” Tony offered, “we didn’t know if she would inherit any of your powers at all for sure, let alone which ones would manifest themselves. The important thing is that we’ve hopefully figured it out now, and she should be able to sleep a little better so long as we keep the penthouse soundproofed.” Peter wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and nodded, absorbing Tony’s reasoning. “She’s still a newborn though, so don’t expect that you’ll be getting your eight hours.” Tony elbowed Peter in the ribs playfully, earning himself a smile from the kid.

“I know, I know, it’s just – I don’t know – I guess I just still kind of hoped she wouldn’t have inherited anything from me,” Peter said sadly.

“Pete, if she’d inherited nothing from you, she wouldn’t have those perfect brown eyes or that ludicrously soft head of curls everybody loves – seriously, what is with that, are all babies born with that much hair?” Peter laughed as Tony flung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side tightly. “You’re an amazing kid, Pete. Abby’s half you and she’s just as incredible, crazy hearing ability and all, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter whispered, looking up at the elder man with shining eyes, “thanks, Tony.”

Tony gave him a final squeeze. “Okay, ground-breaking discoveries made, I think it’s time for cake, don’t you?”

Peter hummed in agreement, placing Abby in her crib for some soundproofed shut-eye – closely monitored at all times by F.R.I.D.A.Y. who was programmed to alert Peter or Tony as soon as Abbigail either woke up or needed assistance – and allowed Tony to steer him back towards the kitchen.

As far as birthdays go, Tony liked to think Peter managed to have a pretty good one, all things considered.

Arguably the best part of the night came when it was time for Tony to reveal his own present to Peter.

“C’mon, Tones, don’t leave the poor kid waiting any longer,” Rhodey testified on Peter’s behalf as the group relaxed in the living room later in the evening.

“Ignore him, Tony,” Peter cut in shyly. “You already give Abby and me so much, I don’t need anything else.”

“I could give you the world, kiddo, and you’d still deserve more,” Tony said, comfortable to be so open in the company of his and Peter’s closest friends. He watched as a blush crept up the kid’s neck at the comment. “Unfortunately, Macy’s was all out of planets, so hopefully this will do instead,” Tony said, pulling out an envelope from his jacket and passing it over to Peter.

Tony could feel his heart almost beating out of his chest as he watched Peter open the envelope and read the letter that was inside.

When it came to finding a gift for the kid’s eighteenth, for the first time in his life, Tony had been totally stumped. It was a big milestone and his first birthday as a father, and Tony had wanted to make it special. Somehow, a new piece of tech or a gadget hadn’t felt like _enough_. Then the idea had come to him.

Their group sat in silence for a long moment as Peter read the letter and then watched as his face crumpled and he threw himself into Tony’s lap. Tony hugged his kid to him tightly, hoping that the tears he could feel dripping onto the shoulder of his shirt were happy ones.

“C’mon, kid, you’re doing nothing for my street cred here,” Tony joked once Peter had calmed down. He heard a couple of sniffs and chuckles from the group around him.

Peter laughed wetly, releasing Tony from his grasp, and moving to sit beside the billionaire instead of on top of him.

“It’s… it’s amazing, Tony. Thank you _so_ much,” Peter breathed, emotion pouring into every word.

“You gonna share with the class, kid?” Clint asked. “The suspense is killing me, here!”

“It’s…” Peter began, before getting chocked up again and looking to Tony.

Fighting back the heat behind his own eyes at Peter’s reaction, Tony cleared his throat and then explained.

“The Parker Foundation. It’s a charity I’ve set up in Peter’s name that works to offer aid and support to young, single parents. Especially teenagers.” Tony smiled down at Peter, pulling him close.

“That’s beautiful, Tony.”

“That’s so cool, dude!”

“Awesome, man.” 

“It’s perfect, Tony. Thank you,” Peter whispered, leaning into Tony’s side.

“You’re welcome, Pete. Happy birthday,” Tony whispered back, gracing Peter with a quick kiss to his temple as their friends discussed the foundation around them.

They spent the rest of the evening surrounded by their friends, the adults laughing as Peter and Ned took it in turns getting killed on the new Zelda. (“Why do they call it Zelda when that’s not even the character you play as?” Rhodey had asked confusedly. “I’ll explain it to you later, Honeybear,” Tony had laughed). Clint, pretending to be annoyed that he wouldn’t be able to have his cuddles with Abby until later now that the girl was sleeping, had attempted to ply Peter with alcohol. (“C’mon, Tony. Peter’s officially a part of the dad club now! I’m pretty sure he can handle one beer,” the archer had argued. Tony had given in, agreeing to _just one_ , which had made Peter ecstatic).

Despite the realisation that Abby inheriting Peter’s spider abilities was now a reality rather than just theory, Peter had a smile on his face the entire night. So Tony was surprised, an hour after everyone had left as he was sat replying to a couple of urgent emails from the comfort of his king-sized bed, to hear a knock at his bedroom door.

Peter poked his head around the door sheepishly, taking in the sight of the man typing away on his phone with his left hand whilst the space where his Iron Arm usually resided was empty, Tony having taken the prosthetic off for the night.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?”

“Never.” Tony popped his phone onto the nightstand and gestured for Peter to come in.

Peter shuffled into the room, his baggy Avenger’s themed t-shirt that he wore for pyjamas hanging off his shoulders loosely as he sat cross-legged on the bed at Tony’s feet.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

Wringing his hands nervously, Peter took a few moments to respond, looking at Tony, then away, and back at Tony again. “I’m – I’m just nervous about tomorrow. Couldn’t sleep,” he added. “I know it’s for the best and everything, and I know I chose for it to happen this way but…”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t a little overwhelming,” Tony supplied.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, relief visibly washing over him at Tony’s understanding.

“I know it’s daunting, Pete, but I’ll be up there with you the whole time. And just remember, you’re in control, always. Whatever we do or don’t tell them is totally up to you. You hold all the power.”

Peter’s brow furrowed, a look of determination crossing his face at Tony’s word.

“How about a sleepover tonight?” Tony suggested. It was a habit the two had adopted, and used often, in the months immediately following the final battle with Thanos, when neither party wanted to let the other out of their sight. Peter would curl up in Tony’s bed, and the two of them would watch a movie, Tony stroking his hands through Peter’s unruly curls calmingly, until they fell asleep. They didn’t do it often anymore; the many months that had passed since Thanos’ defeat making the distance of the corridor between their bedrooms more bearable, but it was still something they liked to do occasionally if one of them was having a particularly hard time.

“That – that would be great, but I don’t want to leave Abby, even with F.R.I.D.A.Y. watching her,” Peter replied apologetically.

“Easy fix, kid.” Tony flung back the covers with dramatic flair and swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’ll move the sleepover to your room.”

“Abby’ll wake you up every time she cries…”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony interrupted, “I don’t care. It’s a sleepover for three, end of discussion.”

Peter knew better than to argue when it came to things like this. Tony would never admit it out loud, but he was a total mother hen, and once he’d made his mind up, he wouldn’t be swayed.

They settled down in Peter’s room, gentle breathing, and the sound of an old movie on so low it was almost inaudible were the only sounds that permeated the peace.

Peter moved until his head was resting in the juncture where Tony’s neck and shoulder met as the elder man combed his fingers through his hair soothingly.

Tomorrow was a big day for the kid.

Tomorrow, they held a press conference that would reveal Peter’s identity as Tony’s adopted son to the world. In less than twenty-four hours, there would be hundreds of ‘journalists’ concocting stories about Peter, digging up things from his past, blatantly making stories up just to earn themselves a few more clicks. It was a world that Tony had lived his entire life and one that he had tried to shelter Peter from for as long as he could. But the kid was eighteen now, and some secrets could only stay secret for so long.

As Tony drifted off to sleep, he thought about how different Peter’s life was about to become. It would be terrifying, nerve-wracking, eye-opening. But if anyone could handle it, it was his kid.

He was Peter Parker-Stark, after all.


	3. August - The Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having turned eighteen just the day before, it was only a matter of time before the press did their own research and revealed Peter’s identity as Tony’s son to the world. So, Pepper had arranged the press conference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello there!
> 
> So I know I said uploads would be on Saturday's, but then I realised that I was busy tomorrow, and probably wouldn't get chance to upload, so here I am, bringing chapter three to you a day early! 
> 
> Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has read, kudosed and commented so far. It literally makes my day getting to read your lovely comments! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The droning of a hundred voices in the next room filled Peter’s ears, despite the teen’s best attempt at blocking out the noise. His senses were always more difficult to control when he was nervous, and today was no exception. Instead, he tried to concentrate on Tony, who was stood directly in front of him, adjusting the younger’s poorly knotted tie.

“Breathe, kiddo,” Tony said quietly as he tightened the knot of Peter’s tie with well-practised hands, “in a couple of hours we’ll be out of here and it’ll all be over.”

Peter let out the breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, shaking himself slightly to try and release some of the tension from his shoulders.

“It’ll never really be over though, will it?” Tony gave him a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say.

Today was the day that would change Peter’s life forever.

The press conference.

Having turned eighteen just the day before, it was only a matter of time before the press did their own research and revealed Peter’s identity as Tony’s son to the world. So, Pepper had arranged the press conference. It had actually been planned for weeks, since before Abby was born, even, although the news outlets had only received their invitations the day before.

Pepper had been insistent on holding the conference as soon as possible, determined that they take control of the narrative before the press had the chance to release any ludicrous stories, and Tony and Peter had agreed.

That didn’t mean the prospect of going out on stage in a few minutes to release his identity to the world wasn’t absolutely fucking terrifying.

Rationally, he knew it was for the best. He, Tony and Pepper had spent many an evening discussing his options, and they had all agreed that being in control – as much as was possible, at least – was the best way to go.

From the very first day that Tony had adopted him after May’s death, Peter had known it would come to this eventually. And realistically, it was a small price to pay. Tony had been there for him in a way that no one, other than May and Ben after his parent’s death, had even been there for him before. Peter loved the man with his whole, entire heart and then some. So, if the world finding out who he was meant that he could keep Tony by his side, then it was a compromise that Peter was willing to make.

“Ten minutes, boys,” Pepper said before striding off, StarkPad in hand, to brief their security team with Happy in tow.

Tony placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders, brushing invisible lint away as Peter took a couple of deep breaths.

“It’ll be just like we discussed, okay? I’ll go on first, give a little introduction, woo them with my usual charm, and then I’ll introduce you. I’ll be up there with you the entire time and remember you don’t have to answer _anything_ you’re not comfortable with, okay?”

Peter nodded, his mouth dry and seemingly unable to form any actual words.

“Have you made a decision about Abby yet?” Tony asked tentatively.

And therein lay the second source of Peter’s anxiety.

Officially, this press conference was to introduce Peter and only Peter to the world. He was eighteen now and had no legal protection from anyone being able to do some digging and find out who he was and who he had been. However, Pepper had suggested that it might also be a good time to introduce Abby.

And to say Peter was conflicted about what to do would be an understatement.

On the one hand, he wanted to keep his daughter out of the public eye for as long as humanly possible, preferably until she turned a hundred at least, and maybe for even longer after that if he could.

On the other hand, how would he and Abby ever be able to live a normal life if he tried to keep her hidden? Abby was a month old now and she hadn’t left the Tower since Peter had brought her home. How could he take her for walks, to the park, to _school_ eventually, without anyone seeing her? He wanted her to have a normal life – or at least, as normal a life as she was able with Tony Stark as a grandpa and Avengers as her family – and that would never be possible if Peter kept her hidden away. And what kind of life would it be? Constantly having to watch over his shoulder for paparazzi anytime that he and Abby wanted to leave the penthouse?

It was an argument he’d been having with himself for days, ever since Pepper had brought the subject up. It was her opinion that releasing information about Abby slowly – a picture on social media here and there, an adorable story about her occasionally during interviews – would placate the press, keep them on-side and make them less likely to release outrageous stories about her and Peter. The theory was; if Peter could cultivate a mutually beneficial relationship with the press, then why would they release made-up stories about him or Abby when he was providing them with real ones?

That was the theory at least.

Pepper had made it clear that, no matter what they did, there would always be conspiracy theories and fake stories made up about them. But it was her view that managing the narrative themselves would at least reduce the chances of those fake stories gaining traction.

“What do you think I should do?”

Tony sighed and considered his words for a moment. “Well, I can tell you from personal experience that growing up in the public eye freaking sucks, Pete.” A pause. “But… In all honesty, I think growing up being totally hidden away from the world might be worse.”

Peter nodded, contemplating the elder man’s words for a moment. The responsibility of making the right decision for his daughter’s future weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“It’s your decision, Pete, and you know I’ll support you no matter what you choose.”

Taking a deep breath, Peter steeled himself. “Let’s tell them about Abby,” he said, looking into Tony’s eyes determinedly.

“Are you sure?”

“No? But… I think it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want Abby to have to be hidden away for her entire childhood. If Pepper thinks this is our best option then… well, I’ve never known her to be wrong before,” he smiled.

Tony grinned back. “That’s true. She’s always right, it’s actually very annoying.” Peter snorted as Tony pulled him in for a hug. “I’m really proud of you, Pete. So fucking proud,” Tony murmured into his hair before pulling back and holding Peter at arms length. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you sap,” Peter sniffed.

“Don’t mock me when I’m trying to be sincere.”

“You’re always trying,” Peter grinned, earning himself a playful swat on the head from Tony.

“Tony!” The two men turned to see Pepper stood by the entrance to the hall where the press were waiting. “It’s time.”

“See you on the other side, kid,” Tony winked as he made his way over to Pepper. Peter saw the woman give him the once over before a security guard opened the door and Tony stepped through, the roaring of the reporters increasing for a moment until the door shut again.

Peter made his way over to Pepper to wait for his cue, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. They had a TV set up so that they could watch what was happening on stage, which did nothing to calm Peter’s nerves.

Peter watched as Tony walked on stage, completely at ease in the way that only Tony Stark could be, the flashing of dozens of cameras lighting the man up as he took his place at the podium in the middle of the stage. Peter hoped he looked half as put together when it was his turn.

“Good morning, everyone. Thanks for coming,” Tony began, flashing his captivated audience his notorious million-dollar smile. “I’m sure you’re all wondering what this is about, so let’s get straight to it, shall we?” Tony said, earning himself a chuckle from the crowd. “It’s no secret that my father and I had a pretty strained relationship. He wasn’t perfect, no father is, I guess. I’ve learnt that since becoming one myself.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd. The reporters hadn’t been given a reason for the press conference, just told that Tony had something to announce and as usual, when Tony Stark called, the reporters came running. Peter could feel the anticipation growing from the people in the room that this could be it. Tony Stark talking about fatherhood? Would this be the day the world would finally be introduced to the billionaire’s adopted kid?

“Looking back,” Tony continued, unperturbed by the whispers filling the room, “there are a lot of decisions that Howard made that I don’t agree with. But looking back, I can also come to terms with the fact that he was trying his best.” Tony paused. “And that’s what I’ve been trying to do with my kid.”

The room really erupts then, reporters calling out questions and holding out their recording devices in a desperate attempt to get Tony’s attention. Peter is a topic that Tony never discusses, no matter how many times he’s asked, so the fact that he’s bringing the topic up willingly? Well, the reporters know they’re in for something big.

Tony waits for the room to fall quiet again before continuing. “So, today, I’d like to introduce you to my son.”

That does it. The reporters go _wild_ , and it takes at least five minutes for Tony, aided by his security team, to get them to calm down enough for his to speak again.

“His name is Peter Parker-Stark. As of yesterday, he’s eighteen years old. And he’s pretty awesome,” Tony smiled. He turns on stage towards that door that he came through, and Peter knows it’s time. “Pete, you want to come out here, bud?”

Pepper gives his back a gentle pat, and before Peter knows what’s happening, he’s stepping onto the stage to the sound of rapturous uproar, blinded by the flashes of a hundred cameras. He thanks whatever deities that might be out there that his Spidey-Senses are behaving today, and moves to the podium as Tony steps to the side slightly, near enough to touch but far enough away that Peter is now the main attraction, just as they had planned.

“Er, hey everybody,” Peter said once the crowd has quietened down once again, giving a little wave which earns him an endearing chuckle from the reporters. “I’m Peter, and uh, I guess I’ll answer some questions now?” He looks to Tony, who nods encouragingly, before turning back to the crowd. Every single reporter has their hand raised in the air, so Peter selects a random lady in the front row to get started.

“Good morning, Peter. Madiha Walsh, ABC News. Could you tell us a little about your history? How did you and Tony Stark come to know each other?”

“Um, hi Madiha, thanks,” Peter began, trying to shake away his nerves, “I actually met Tony by accident really,” he lied, repeating the cover story he and Tony had planned with Pepper. It was just close enough to the truth that it shouldn’t trip him up, but far enough away not to reveal his spider-themed extracurricular activities. “He offered me an internship and things just went from there, I guess.”

Peter began looking for another person to call on, but it seemed the lady wasn’t satisfied.

“And your adoption?” Madiha continued before Peter could move on, “Tony Stark adopting an intern seems pretty unusual?”

“My parents passed away in a plane crash when I was little,” Peter explained, the subject of his parent’s death like a dull ache in his chest that reared its head now and then. Sometimes he felt guilty, that the thought of his mom and dad didn’t hurt more. But he had been so young when they died, and time was a strange thing; it didn’t heal the wounds, but it made them sting less. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter continued, willing his voice to remain steady; the pain of losing Ben and May far fresher. “My uncle was killed when I was fourteen and then my aunt passed away during my Sophomore year. I’d been interning with Tony for a little while by then, and we’d grown pretty close, I guess, so he adopted me.”

The subtle buzz of dozens of recording devices hummed in Peter’s sensitive ears as the audience processed his story. It was a sad one, he knew. And pretty unbelievable. _And you don’t even know the half of it_ , Peter found himself thinking.

He nodded to a man in a navy-blue suit jacket.

“Hi, Peter. Arif Clemons, The Hollywood Reporter. Why was your identity kept hidden until now? And was it your idea, or Mr Stark’s, to do so?”

“It was a mutual decision, I suppose. I think Tony probably thought I had enough going on with my aunt and school and everything, without adding a public adoption into the mix. And I was just a kid; I wanted to be able to keep living my regular life, at least until I left high school. But, I’m eighteen now and most of this information has become public knowledge if you look in the right places, so now felt like as good a time as any to have my own ‘I am Iron Man moment’.” The crowd laughed, and Peter felt himself relax just a little. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he was doing pretty good so far.

Peter selected a young dark-haired woman in glasses next.

“Cathy O’Connell, BBC. My question is for Mr Stark if that’s alright.” Tony nodded as he stepped up to the podium, his shoulder brushing Peter’s. “Is it safe to assume that your adoption of Peter means that he will be your heir for Stark Industries?”

“Absolutely,” Tony answered, bringing his prosthetic hand up to rest on Peter’s shoulder, “and it couldn’t be in safer hands.”

“Don’t let Pepper hear you say that,” Peter joked, earning him a chuckle from their captivated audience.

Tony smiled indulgently at him before turning to continue addressing the crowd. “Of course, that’s a good few years away yet. Pepper is an incredible CEO and has taken SI from strength to strength. When the time comes, I know Peter will do the same. This kid will change the world.”

Peter felt his cheeks warming at Tony’s open admission. It was scary how much the older man believed in him sometimes. Being Tony Stark’s son and the heir to SI was intimidating as hell most of the time, but equally, having Tony in his corner, loving him and believing in him, could make Peter feel invincible. He had grown to realise that, so long as Tony believed in him – which the man always did – he could achieve anything.

Tony stepped back to return Peter to the centre of everyone attention and the next reporter asked their question.

“Hello, Peter, great to meet you. Emilis Rivas with The New York Times. Is it true that you became a father last month?”

Peter felt his heart rate speed up at the question, but he forced himself to remain steady. This was the right thing to do. He wouldn’t make his daughter hide away for her entire childhood; he would control the situation and guide the narrative that the press released. He would protect her.

“That’s correct, yes,” he said, unable to help the smile that lit up his face as the cameras clicked and the whispering started again.

“Could you tell us a little about that?” Ms Rivas asked eagerly.

“I have a little girl,” Peter revealed. “Her name is Abbigail Parker-Stark, and she’s just short of a month old.”

“And she’s a screaming machine,” Tony interjected, lightly.

“Well, she has to live with you, can you blame her?” Peter snarked back, their audience lapping up the teasing interaction between the pair. This was a side to the infamous Tony Stark they had never seen before, and they were _loving_ it.

“Hi, Peter. Harper Daniel from CNN,” a gentleman from towards the back of the room called out. “With a newborn in the mix, what are your plans for the future? Is college on the cards or will you be spending your time training to take over SI?”

“I think Tony would have an aneurysm if I didn’t go to college,” Peter laughed.

Tony let out a sound of faux indignation. “What can I say, the kid’s a genius, I’d hate to see that big brain of his go to waste.”

“I’ve actually had my acceptance to MIT, but I’ve deferred my spot until next year so I can concentrate on Abby for now. Then I’ll be studying remotely, so I can make use of grandpa Tony for free childcare while I study,” Peter grins cheekily, well aware of the effect that calling Tony Stark _grandpa Tony_ would have on the crowd. They don’t disappoint; half of the room openly cooing at the title, and the other half scribbling quickly on tablets in shorthand, attempting to capture every detail of this momentous press conference. “In the meantime, Tony actually set up a charity in my name for my birthday, so I expect to use my spare time between now and college working on projects to do with that.”

“That’s quite the birthday gift,” the reporter continues, now looking towards Tony, “could you tell us a little more?”

Stepping up to the podium once more, it’s Tony who answers. “The Parker Foundation is a charity that helps and supports young parents. Peter knows that not everyone out there is as fortunate as himself and is always looking for ways to help people. I thought the foundation would be a great way for him to do that. Any and all donations welcome, so get your chequebooks out, people.”

Their audience laugh, some actually doing as they’re told right then and there, as Tony moves to step away again. Before he can, the same reporter is calling out another question, clearly eager to milk his moment.

“Why The Parker Foundation and not The Parker-Stark Foundation, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Tony remains outwardly unbothered by the line of questioning, although Peter watches closely, noticing how the elder man’s right-hand twitches.

“Parker is to honour and memorialise Peter’s family; his parents and his aunt and uncle, who are sadly no longer with us, though who now live on through the foundation’s legacy. I’m sure the Stark name will be remembered at least for a few years after I’m gone, and now the Parker name will, too.”

There are some _awws_ at that comment, and Peter can’t deny that he’s a little taken aback too. Tony had never told him the reasoning behind the charity’s name and in all honestly, Peter had never given it much thought. The idea that Tony chose the Parker name specifically as a memory to his family almost has Peter welling up on the stage.

Peter sees Pepper send Tony a signal from the side of the stage indicating that they need to wrap things up.

“Okay, folks, I think we have time for one more question before Peter and I need to go and relieve Rhodey of his babysitting duties. Have at it,” Tony announces, choosing a reporter for Peter at random.

Peter wishes he’d picked someone else.

“Peter. Usamah Arnold. USA Today. Is Abby’s mother on the scene and was her conception planned?”

It rubs Peter up the wrong way that this reporter has the audacity to use his daughter’s nickname, and he curses himself for using it earlier and giving the press that piece of information only for it to be thrown back in his face like this. He had semi-expected a question like this to come up, but he had hoped that it wouldn’t.

He tries to keep his answer short and sweet.

“ _Abigail’s_ mother is safe and healthy, but no, she isn’t involved in my daughter’s life. And I think considering I’m an eighteen-year-old single-father, it’s safe to assume that her conception wasn’t planned.” The audience laughs, a little awkwardly this time as if they’re unsure whether to do so is what Peter wants, or whether it would offend him. “But it was the best and happiest accident. It brought me my daughter and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Tony speaks up then, his voice hard and authoritative, worlds away from the jovial attitude he’d adopted throughout the rest of the conference. “Abigail’s mother would like to remain anonymous, and we ask that you respect that. Any news outlet found to be going against those wishes will find themselves facing the full force of the Stark Industries legal department and losing. Peter is happy to share aspects of his and Abigail’s life with you and the public, but if we find that generosity to be abused, that sharing will stop. Are we clear?”

Reporters nod and mumble confirmations like children that have just had their asses handed to them in the principal’s office. Despite Tony’s threat, Peter knows it would be actually very difficult to legally keep reporters away from MJ if they really wanted to go digging – she was an adult whose relationship to Peter could be speculated on just like any other person. Peter only hoped that the information he chose to feed to the public about himself and Abby would be enough to keep their attention away from MJ. Partly, out of respect to MJ’s wishes, and partly because Peter was still upset and angry about the way MJ had left things; the wound of her leaving still raw and painful. Perhaps selfishly, Peter didn’t want to have to see her or have anything to do with her at all, if he could help it. So, he hoped the reporters stayed away.

“Thank you all for your time and your questions. I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” Peter said politely, smiling as he stepped away from the podium and was ushered off the stage by Tony.

The press conference had gone well, he thought, although he wished it didn’t have to end on such a sour note. Still, most of the information was out there now, and some of the more difficult questions had been answered. He had shouldered the weight of keeping his adoption a secret for so long that the knowledge that his relationship to Tony was now out in the open was actually quite a relief.

Pepper and Happy were waiting for them backstage. Peter’s eyes lit up when he realised Rhodey had joined them, Abigail cradled against his chest contently, her wide eyes trying to focus on the activity around her. The tension that had been subconsciously building within Peter for the last few weeks in the lead up to his birthday and the press conference melted away at the sight of his daughter.

Peter made greedy grabby hands towards the little girl, ignoring the amused chuckles of his family, as Rhodey transferred Abby from his own arms to Peter’s.

The bond he felt with the girl was almost scary sometimes. He just felt so much _better_ when she was around; like he could breathe a little easier and think a little clearer. She was the sun, and Peter was content to revolve around her for the rest of his life.

“What do you think, Abs?” Peter cooed. Abby wrapped her tiny fist around Peter’s index finger as he bounced the girl up and down a little. “Do you think daddy and grandpa did a good job?”

“Please, I’ve been doing these things since I could talk. My performance was never in doubt,” Tony preened, leaning in to land a soft kiss atop Abby’s head.

Pepper smirked, “Well, you behaved yourself. That’s a first.”

“What can I say, gotta set a good example for my lineage, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Pepper deadpanned.

“Seriously, though guys,” Peter cut in, “do you think it went okay?”

“You crushed it, Pete,” Rhodey said, giving Peter a friendly pat on the back, “you had those guys eating outta the palm of your hand.”

“You were great, Peter,” Pepper confirmed kindly, before tapping a couple of things on her StarkPad. “And the socials agree. The broadcast is trending on YouTube and Twitter. Opinion polls look good, and our stock price is increasing as we speak. People must think the future of Stark Industries looks bright,” she smiled.

“That was never in doubt,” Tony said, pulling a blushing Peter against his side tightly. “Now, enough of all this serious talk. Anyone else feel like Shawarma for lunch?”

* * *

Later that day, with his stomach full of Shawarma and the adrenalin of the press conference finally wearing off, Peter posted his first picture to the new, verified Instagram account SI’s PR team had set up on his behalf.

In the photo, Peter sat on one of the Tower’s plush sofas, cradling a newborn Abby – only a day or so old – in his arms. The little girl’s sleeping face was just visible over the top of a pale pink fluffy blanket that Tony had bought, her tiny fingers peeking out from her cocoon and holding onto one of Peter’s own. Tony was sat beside the pair, his left arm around Peter’s shoulders as he leant into the scene. The elder man gazed down at the precious bundle, a soft smile gracing his face and causing him to appear almost serene. Peter was smiling too, but his face was turned towards Tony, delighting in the man’s reaction. None of the photo’s occupants seemed aware that the picture was even being taken, but that only added to the charm of the image.

It was one of Peter’s favourite photos and seemed like the perfect image to be his first-ever post to his official @peterparkerstark Instagram. He hit publish without writing a caption. He knew that captions would be essential for his future posts – he could hardly try to control the narrative that the press published about him and his family without _actually_ giving them a narrative to publish – but he figured with the press conference that morning, most of the news outlets would already have enough material to be going on with for now. And now they had a nice, family photo to use for their articles, too. _You’re welcome_ , Peter thought. 

After publishing the post, Peter put his phone down to enjoy the rest of his day with Abby and Tony without any unnecessary distractions, only picking the device up again that evening, after he had put Abby to bed.

Unsurprisingly, there were hundreds of notifications; followers, likes, comments, a few news articles and YouTube videos...

_10 Of The Cutest Moments From The Stark’s Press Conference_

_The Parker Foundation – Everything You Need To Know About Peter Parker-Stark’s Charity, Including How You Can Donate!_

_Body Language Expert Examines #StarkPressConference – The Results Might Surprise You!_

Peter was glad to see that the vast majority of the stories were positive ones, and was especially happy to see the foundation being featured in many of the articles.

He had done it. He had revealed his identity – or, one of them at least – to the world, and so far, things were looking good. He knew the stories wouldn’t always be positive; wherever people found happiness, there was always going to be someone there, ready to try and tear them down for no good reason other than to show that they could. But, so long as he had his family by his side, and they controlled the press as much as they could, Peter was pretty optimistic for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a lot of biodad fics where Tony keeps Peter a secret from the press, and I totally get that (and love reading those fics!), but I kind of thought to myself, is that really all that plausible and possible? I feel like the biggest reason to do that is to reduce the chance of kidnapping, but I'm like, lots of celebrities share aspects of their children's lives with the media, and they don't get kidnapped willy-nilly, you know? So, I decided to go with having the world know about Abby, and I hope you guys see my reasoning behind that!


	4. September - The Doctor's Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He needed to learn to do things on his own; to be independent. Abby was his responsibility. After everything that Tony had been through, the man deserved a break from Peter’s shit.   
> That was why, when he had arranged today’s appointment for Abigail to get her first round of vaccinations, he had insisted that he would take his daughter alone.   
> It would be fine; Peter had thought to himself after calling the doctor’s office and making the appointment. A drive into the city, a quick check-up and a couple of injections from the doctor, and it would all be over.   
> Easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, gals and non-binary pals, and welcome to another chapter!  
> A couple of quick disclaimers:  
> First of all, I’m from the UK and have never had a baby so have based all the information in this chapter on the advice given by the NHS on their website. Anything I wasn’t sure of I basically just blatantly made up, so leave your doctorates at the door and enjoy!   
> Secondly, I've been pretty ill this week (just a cold thank God, but it's been pretty shitty). I wrote this chapter a while ago but edited it this week so if there are any mistakes, can we all just agree to blame that on my cold-addled brain rather than on my ineptitude? Cheers. 
> 
> Right, I'll stop chatting shit now. Please enjoy!

“Okay,” Peter breathed, stuffing a fourth muslin cloth into the already over-stretched diaper bag with a little too much force before reaching for another rattle. “Okay, Abby, we’ve got this. Right? We’ve got this. Yeah, it’s just a little trip to the doctor’s office, no big deal. It’s no big deal.”

It was, in fact, a big deal.

The little girl blinked at Peter from where she sat in her bouncer, completely unaffected by her dad's anxiety-fueled ramblings. _Oh, to be a two-month-old baby with no responsibilities,_ Peter thought to himself dramatically, trying to squeeze another teddy bear into the diaper bag but only managing to make a packet of baby wipes fall out instead.

Peter knew he needed to leave in the next ten minutes to make it to Dr Montgomery’s office on time for their appointment, but that eventuality was looking less and less likely by the minute. He still needed to double-check the diaper bag to make sure he had everything, get Abby into a clean outfit – her current onesie stained from the bottle she had guzzled down just under an hour ago – and dress himself in something that wasn’t grey sweatpants and a threadbare Midtown sweater. Yeah, they were definitely going to be late.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you message Dr Montgomery’s office and let her know we’re going to be late, please? And make sure you say how sorry I am. Like, send her all the apologies.”

“ _Of course, Peter_ ,” the AI replied. Abby tilted her head to the side slightly, a little quirk she seemed to have adopted whenever the AI’s voice came over the speakers, the girl far too young to understand where the disembodied voice was coming from. “ _Would you like me to alert Boss that you require some assistance?”_

“ _No_!” Peter snapped. Then he felt bad. “Sorry, F.R.I.D.A.Y. No, thank you.”

“ _Of course, Peter.”_

In reality, there was nothing Peter wanted more than to call Tony into his room right now. The man could have changed Abby while Peter readied the bag, and they might have actually made it out of the door on time. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Pride was a sin and Peter was a sinner.

Now that Abby was a couple of months old, Peter had begun to feel guilty that Tony was constantly by their side, assisting and helping Peter whenever he needed it. Of course, Peter knew that was what family was for, but equally, despite his semi-retirement, Tony was a busy man. Even though he had saved the world, there was always something SI related to sign or decisions to be made, phone calls to be answered. And while ever he was with Peter and Abby, the man wasn’t able to get any of those things done.

The guilt for that weighed on Peter heavily.

Plus, Peter was a dad. He needed to stop relying on other people so much and take some responsibility. Looking after Abby was his job and he needed to start doing it without so much assistance.

Being involved in The Parker Foundation for the past month had really opened Peter’s eyes to the realities and struggles that so many young single parents in New York faced every day, and here Peter was, living in a multimillion-dollar tower with a multibillion-dollar parent helping him take care of his infant daughter and thinking that he had it hard. How could he ever possibly hope to relate to these other people who had so little when he had so much much?

No. He needed to learn to do things on his own; to be independent. Abby was his responsibility. After everything that Tony had been through, the man deserved a break from Peter’s shit.

That was why, when he had arranged today’s appointment for Abigail to get her first round of vaccinations, he had insisted that he would take his daughter alone.

It would be fine; Peter had thought to himself after calling the doctor’s office and making the appointment. A drive into the city, a quick check-up and a couple of injections from the doctor, and it would all be over.

Easy.

Except, they hadn’t even made it out of the door yet and Peter felt like he was already failing.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he zipped up the diaper bag for the final time, deciding that if four muslin cloths wasn’t enough then they would just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

He changed Abby in record time, the baby girl still not keen on the process, but far more appeasable now that they had figured out her little Spidey-Sense issue and had gotten her sleeping schedule sorted out. Deciding to leave the sweatshirt but change into some jeans, Peter slung the diaper bag over his shoulder, scooped Abby up from her playmat on the floor, and they were on their way.

He instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let Tony know they were leaving, knowing the man was using his newly acquired free time to do a little tinkering in the workshop, and strapped Abby into her car seat.

The fact that he had only passed his driver’s test a couple of weeks before Abby had been born niggled at the back of Peter’s mind as he pulled out of the underground garage – followed closely by his new, ever constant security detail – through the hordes of paparazzi that had been camped outside the Tower since the press conference, and into the New York traffic. It was still morning, late enough that most of the commuters were already out of the way, but the streets of the city that never sleeps were always busy regardless.

Resolutely sticking to the speed limit – not that he could do much else in the traffic – meant that they _were_ late to arrive at the doctor’s office, but only by around half an hour, which all things considered, Peter deemed a win. 

He insisted that his security team stay outside, which the team of six agreed to reluctantly, before rushing into the building with Abby in his arms, the diaper bag slung over his arm haphazardly.

Dr Montgomery had evidently pushed back her other appointments and was waiting for them – one of the many perks of being Tony Stark’s kid – and ushered them into her office with a friendly greeting. Peter breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that despite their tardiness, they wouldn’t have to sit it a waiting room full of prying eyes.

Abby looked around the sterile room, squinting and grumbling when she looked up at the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. With help from Bruce and Helen and a handful of totally non-invasive tests, they had been able to confirm that the baby girl had most definitely inherited Peter’s heightened senses. Abby was especially sensitive to noise, but extremely bright lights or powerful smells also bothered the girl. Their current working theory was that the girl would be able to control her senses more effectively as she got older, similarly to how Peter managed his own senses.

“Hey, Dr Montgomery,” Peter rushed out as he took a seat on the plastic-covered chair next to the doctor’s desk, Abby perched on his lap. “I’m so sorry we’re late, I…”

“Peter,” the doctor interrupted, taking her own seat, and bringing a hand to rest on Peter’s knee comfortingly, “take a breath. You’re here now. I’m a mother, I know how these things can go sometimes,” she chuckled. Her smile was comforting, but Peter still couldn’t fully shake the instinct to apologise. “No Tony with you today?” she asked conversationally as she turned to typed away on her computer, bringing up Abby’s patient records on the screen.

“Er, no, not today. He had a couple of things he needed to get done,” Peter replied. He was really regretting his decision to not allow Tony to come along to the appointment, now. He was nervous. He knew thousands of babies around the world got their vaccinations done every day, with no issues or complications, and he knew they were completely necessary, but he couldn’t help but feel trepidation about what was to come. This was _his_ baby, about to be stuck with needles. And he knew she was going to cry and scream, and he would have to walk back through the waiting room with a wailing baby in his arms and tomorrow’s papers would probably be full of headlines talking about what a terrible father he was and…

“Well, I’m sure we’ll manage without him,” the doctor smiled, interrupting Peter’s catastrophising spiral. She turned back towards him. “So, today I’m going to be administering Abigail’s first round of vaccinations. There are three vaccines she’ll be having today; the six-in-one, which covers things like Polio and Hepatitis, and then she’ll also be getting the rotavirus and the MenB.” Peter nodded along. He knew all of this already; Dr Montgomery had explained the vaccination process over the phone a few days ago when Peter had made the appointment, but he did his best to listen diligently anyway. “She might be a little sore around the injection site for a couple of days, but that’s completely normal and should go away on its own. Some babies develop a slight fever after their vaccinations, again, this is normal, just make sure she’s staying hydrated with plenty of fluids if that happens, okay? Do you have any questions before we get started?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Peter said. His voice sounded small, even to his own ears. At that moment, he felt like a child playing house; too young and irresponsible to be able to do this on his own. _Why_ had he forced Tony to stay at home?

The doctor smiled kindly. When Peter had first met Dr Montgomery, all those months ago at MJ’s first scan, the woman had terrified him; she was abrupt and so knowledgeable in her field that it had intimidated Peter, who was completely ignorant to all things _baby_. But the more he had gotten to know the woman, the more Peter realised how kind and caring she truly was beneath her occasionally prickly exterior. 

“It’s normal to be nervous, Peter. But there’s nothing to worry about, it’ll be over before you realise,” the doctor said comfortingly. “Okay, let’s get started. I’ll be injecting onto her thigh so could you take her onesie off for me?”

Peter complied, wrestling the wriggling girl out of her onesie with what were now well-practised movements until Abby was sat in his lap in only her diaper. Peter sat, cradling one arm around Abby’s middle to keep her upright while using his other hand to rub gentle circles into the girl’s barefoot as the doctor prepared her equipment.

After a few moments, Dr Montgomery gestured Peter over to the examination table, helping him get situated on it comfortably and adjusting Abby in his arms so that he could comfort the girl against his chest while still providing the doctor with easy access to the baby’s chubby thigh.

Dr Montgomery took a seat just in front of Peter, pulling the tray that held her equipment closer. Peter spotted the three needles, all lined up neatly atop of some sterile surgical gauze, his heartbeat quickening at the sight. He’d never been the biggest fan of needles or injections himself – even though his Spider-Manning meant he came into contact with the things far more often than he would like – and the thought of his daughter’s perfect skin, as yet unmarred by the cruelties of the world, being pierced by those things gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Okay, he knew he was being dramatic.

They were just injections. It wasn’t that big a deal and he knew that.

But he also knew that they would hurt and that Abby would cry and that was just the worst thing in the world to Peter. He was supposed to shield his daughter from pain – and he knew, by protecting her from these diseases in the future, that he was doing that in the long run – but right now, it felt like he was being a co-conspirator to her suffering.

“Okay, Peter, I’m just going to sterilise the area with a quick swab and then we’ll get started. I’ll be as quick as I can, but if you just want to distract Abigail the best you can then that would be really helpful, alright?”

“Sure,” Peter nodded. He held Abby to his chest with one arm under her bottom and the other at the back of her head, arranging her so that she was looking up at him rather than at the doctor. “Hey, fabby-Abby,” Peter cooed, rubbing the back of the girl’s head soothingly, “are you going to be a brave girl for daddy?” Abby let out a pitiful whimper as the doctor swabbed the injection site, clearly opposed to the cool sensation against her skin. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re so brave. I wish I could be as brave as you when I get my shots. Dr Cho always makes fun of me,” Peter rambled, ignoring the embarrassment that accompanied using his baby voice in front of anyone that wasn’t his family.

Peter knew the exact moment that Dr Montgomery administered the first shot because Abby _wailed_. 

“Shh, shh, shh, Abby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Peter comforted desperately, his words falling on deaf ears as Abby screamed, fat tears leaving trails down his daughter’s flushed cheeks. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. Daddy’s here…”

The second shot was almost as bad as the first, with Abby’s cries reaching a new pitch that Peter didn’t even think was possible. The girl squirmed in his arms. Peter kept a firm but gentle hold on her, feeling like the worst person in the world as he did so.

“You’re doing great, Peter. Just one more to go,” Dr Montgomery assured.

“You hear that, Abs? Just one more and then we’re all done! You’re doing so amazingly, baby girl, I’m so proud of you. Wait until we tell grandpa how brave you’ve been, he’s going to be proud of you too. I bet he’ll want to give you a big cuddle to show you how proud he is, you know how much he loves his Abby-cuddles.”

He saw Dr Montgomery smile out of the corner of his eye as she placed the last of the empty syringes back on the tray.

“All done,” the doctor said, removing her gloves and moving to throw the used medical paraphernalia into the bio-hazard bin in the corner of the room.

Peter literally sighed with relief, standing up so that he could rock and bounce Abby in the way he knew usually calmed her down the quickest. After a few minutes of senseless cooing and gentle touches of comfort, the little girl had finally settled enough for Peter to get her back into her onesie, although her tears continued to fall.

“I know it may not feel like it,” the doctor began as Peter readied himself and Abby to leave, “but she did really great. And so did you.” Peter wasn’t sure that he believed the words but made sure to thank her all the same. “Take care, and I’ll see you both again in a few weeks,” she smiled.

Peter groaned internally as he made his way through the waiting room and out into the parking lot, already dreading having to bring Abby back in four weeks for her next round of shots.

He tried not to think about that fact that they would have to repeat today’s process twice more before Abby was fully protected against the various diseases as he strapped the now thankfully dosing girl into her car seat; all that screaming and carrying on had clearly taken it out of her.

In all honesty, it had taken it out of Peter, too. He got into the car and sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, in quiet contemplation, just thinking. His security team, parked not-so discreetly at various points around the parking lot, were probably wondering what the hell he was doing, but Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His ears were still ringing and his head pounding from Abby’s cries. He couldn’t seem to shake the tension that had built up in his shoulders from the appointment. No matter how many deep breaths he took, or times he counted to ten, he could feel the anxiety of the morning clawing at his insides.

 _Everything’s fine. Babies cry at their doctor’s appointments all the time. Abby’s okay. She’s okay._ He repeated the words over and over in his mind, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to believe them.

To his mortification, he felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes; the stress and anxiety he had been feeling all morning bubbling to the surface and demanding release. He wished Tony were here and hated himself for it; he needed to learn to do things with Abby on his own, why was he so incapable?

Refusing to give in to the tears that he felt heavy behind his eyes, Peter put the car in drive and set off back towards the Tower, swallowing the lump in his throat the whole way.

* * *

“ _Boss, Peter and Abby have returned from their doctor’s visit,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced to the workshop.

“Thanks, Fri.” Tony set down his soldering iron, resisting the urge to hotfoot it upstairs straight away.

He couldn’t deny that he’d been surprised when Peter had insisted on taking Abby for her shots on his own, but the kid had always been furiously independent – at least on the outside – so Tony had reluctantly accepted his decision and tried to keep himself busy for a few hours to give Peter his space.

The thing was, Tony knew the kid, and he knew that his sense of independence didn’t come from a place of infallible self-confidence, but rather from a place of never wanting to be a burden.

And Tony? Tony _hated_ that.

He knew that, on the inside, Peter needed more support than the kid was ever willing to ask for. Support that Tony always tried to give, no matter how many times Peter insisted he was fine.

But when the topic of Abby’s vaccinations had come up, Peter had been adamant that Tony should stay home and catch up on some tinkering rather than accompany them.

The art of knowing when to push with Peter was a difficult balancing act that Tony had spent many years trying and only sometimes succeeding to perfect. On the one hand, sometimes Tony would push – when he felt Peter needed support and reassurance that he was unwilling to ask for – and it would work; the kid would crack almost straight away and admit that he would like Tony to be there, or help out, or to have that conversation.

Other times, like with Abby’s doctor’s appointment, Tony would push and Peter would retreat; insist he was fine until he was blue in the face, go through with whatever it was even though Tony could see the anxiety clear as day on the kid’s face. When that happened, Tony had learnt that he could do nothing else but wait for Peter to break, which he almost always inevitably did, and help him pick up the pieces afterwards.

He had a feeling today was going to be one of those days.

Despite not seeing the kid before he had left that morning, all the tell-tale signs had been there the night before; Peter had been quiet, fidgety – even more so than usual – and distant all evening. Tony knew he was nervous about Abby’s appointment, it was only natural for a first-time parent to be anxious about their baby’s first doctor’s appointment, but no matter how many times Tony had offered to come along, Peter had shot him down.

He didn’t take the rejection personally, his bond with the kid was too strong for any of that crap, but that hadn’t stopped him from spending the whole morning worrying about the appointment whilst trying to pretend he was tinkering.

After waiting about half an hour, Tony deemed that it was acceptable for him to head upstairs and check on the kid without looking like too much of a helicopter parent. It was around lunchtime, anyway, giving him the perfect excuse if Peter brought it up.

The penthouse was quiet when he stepped out of the elevator, which wasn’t all that unusual with two sound-sensitive spider-kids living there. Tony made his way to the open living area, but Peter and Abby were nowhere to be seen.

“I thought you said they were back, Fri?”

“ _They are boss. Abby is asleep in her crib and Peter is in your bedroom.”_

 _My bedroom? Kid better not be stealing my sweatshirts again,_ Tony thought to himself with no real conviction as he made his way down the corridor to the rooms, peeking into Peter’s to see Abby resting peacefully, just as F.R.I.D.A.Y. had said, before turning and opening the door to his own bedroom just opposite.

The sight that greeted him took him completely by surprise. There, sat cross-legged in the middle of his over-sized bed, was Peter… in absolute floods of tears.

“Pete,” Tony breathed, moving quickly to perch on the bed beside the teen and pull him into his body until he had the kid cradled against his chest. “Buddy, what’s wrong? Is it Abby? Did something happen?” Tony asked, suddenly panicked at the prospect that something gone wrong at the doctor’s appointment.

Thankfully, Peter quickly shook his head. “N-no, she’s f-fine,” Peter hiccupped, struggling to catch his breath in between the words as the tears rolled freely down his face.

“What about my kid, though, huh? What’s got you all worked up, bud?” Tony asked gently, cradling Peter’s head against his chest so that the kid could listen to the sound of his heart beating and planting a soft kiss on his crown. He used his other hand to pull Peter as close as he could, rubbing circles on the kid’s back soothingly.

“I-it’s stupid,” Peter mumbled, pulling his sleeve over his hand, and using it to wipe his nose.

“Nothing that upsets you this much is stupid, kiddo.”

Tony waited patiently for Peter to speak, knowing that the kid would open up eventually. He just needed time.

Finally, Peter said, “this morning was just… a lot.”

Tony remained silent, maintaining his soothing ministrations against Peter’s back as he waited for him to continue.

“Like, it went fine, you know?” Peter sniffed. “I mean, Abby cried and everything, which… which was hard but, I’d known to expect that, obviously. Dr Montgomery said she did really well…”

“That’s great, Pete.”

“Yeah. I just…” Peter looked up then, his tear-filled eyes meeting Tony’s. “I was so anxious the whole time, Tony. I’d made you stay home but really I just wanted you there, and then I felt so _stupid_ because I’m an adult now, I’m Abby’s dad, I should be able to take care of her on my own and you’ve got better things to do then to have to watch out for me all the time and… and it was just _so hard_.”

“Oh, Pete…”

“But, like, why was it so hard? Parents take their kids to appointments all the time and don’t freak out. Other people have it so much harder than me – I’ve seen it, working on the foundation – why am I such a fucking…”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Tony interrupted. “You’re amazing, okay? You hear me? You’re an amazing kid and you’re an amazing dad to Abby, don’t you ever doubt that. And just because other people have different difficulties to you doesn’t diminish the difficulties you _do_ have, okay? It’s not a competition about who’s worse off, Pete.”

“I know that, I do, it’s just…” There was a pause. “I just don’t know what I’m doing, Tony,” Peter whispered into the man’s chest.

“Kid, look at me,” Tony said, rearranging himself until he had Peter’s head cradled between his hands, using his thumbs to wipe at the tears that littered the kid’s cheeks, “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but nobody knows what they’re doing when it comes to parenting. And you never, _ever_ have to feel worried about asking for help, especially when it comes to Abby, okay? It’s your job to look after Abby, but it’s my job to look after you, and that doesn’t change just because you’ve turned eighteen or become a dad. When Abby turns eighteen are you all of a sudden going to stop wanting to look out for her?” Peter stared at Tony for a second before shaking his head having realised the question hadn’t been rhetorical. “Exactly. I love you so much, Pete. I’ll never ever stop wanting to take care of you and help you. Even when I’m old and grey and going senile in whichever old folks’ home you dump me in, you can always come to me. For anything. And you should never feel ashamed about that.” Tony brushed Peter’s curls back from his forehead, looking into his kid’s eyes to make sure his message was getting through. “And just because you think other people have it worse than you doesn’t mean that you can't still ask for support when you need it, you know. Yes, I help you with Abby and I know you probably see that as an unfair advantage compared to the people the foundation helps. But the whole point of the foundation is so that you can help those people; help give them an advantage that they wouldn’t have had otherwise. We all need a little help sometimes, Underoos,” Tony finished softly.

Peter’s face crumpled at Tony’s declaration and the kid threw himself into the elder man’s arms. Tony held him, rocking their embracing bodies from side to side gently as Peter cried, releasing all the tension and anxiety that had been building within him throughout the morning.

They stayed that way for a while, Tony’s back protesting at his hunched over position. _It can protest all it likes_ , Tony thought to himself, unwilling to move even an inch until his kid was okay.

Eventually, Peter pulled back, looking up at Tony with bloodshot eyes that held so much love and trust, Tony was almost reduced to tears himself. “For the record,” Peter began, his voice thick, “I would never dump you in an old folks’ home. I know what it’s like to live with you; it’d be cruel to put the other residents through that.”

“Glad you’re feeling better, you little shit,” Tony grinned. “Guess I’ll just have to hang around and annoy you for the rest of my life, huh?”

“I guess that would be okay,” Peter agreed, moving to wrap his arms around Tony again and squeezing the man tightly. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime, kiddo. You hear me? _Anytime_.”


	5. October - Gaming and Galas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, are you going out to do you-know-what as you-know-who tonight?” Ned half-whispered, trying and failing as always to be discreet about Peter’s superhero-ing adventures, even though he had already told Peter that his roommate was in their dorm’s communal bathroom taking a shower, so wouldn’t be able to overhear them anyway.
> 
> “Nah, not tonight,” he finally replied. “I’ve got tonight off. Plus, we’re hosting our first gala for The Parker Foundation,” Peter smiled, both excited and terrified at the prospect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, welcome back!
> 
> So sorry that this chapter is coming to you a day late! (It's actually 00:43 in the UK right now, so technically it's two days late, but I wont tell if you don't.) My boyfriend surprised me with a visit this weekend (we only get to see each other a couple of times a month) and I wanted to make the most of my time with him, so didn't get chance to edit until tonight!
> 
> I beg your forgiveness, but at least we got here eventually!
> 
> Please enjoy!

“…it’s crazy, dude! The campus is huge, I swear I’ve gotten lost at least a dozen times since I moved in!”

“Ned,” Peter laughed, “you literally grew up in New York, how come you can manage to find your way around every backstreet here but can’t find your way around a college campus?”

“I know, I know – hey, there’s a fish with a fin down here, could be a Great White if you need one? – I can’t explain it honestly, but I’m having to set off to my classes like, thirty minutes early just to make sure I get there on time!”

Peter made his character on the flat screen in front of him move towards the in-game beach where Ned’s character waited. Sure enough, in the bright blue ocean of the game’s graphics, there was a dark blob with a fin. Peter manoeuvred the controls until his character pulled out their fishing rod, bracing himself for the disappointment of yet _another_ suckerfish.

Playing Animal Crossing on the Switch had become a sacred weekly ritual for the pair of best friends since Abby had been born and Peter’s free time had become more limited. Now that Ned was literally at the other side of the country studying at CalTech, their online playtime had become even more important to the pair.

“Okay, Abs, keep your fingers and toes crossed for daddy,” Peter said as his character attempted to reel in the creature on the screen. The little girl was sat on Peter’s lap, perched securely on his crossed legs, supported between his arms as he held the Switch controller, her back resting against Peter’s stomach comfortably. She stared up at the TV screen with impossibly large eyes, completely enthralled by the bright colours of the game.

Ned laughed at Peter’s comment over their video-call connection as Peter watched carefully, waiting for the right moment to strike…

The sound of water splashing…

The game’s catchy fishing jingle…

Another suckerfish.

“Oh, for fu…fudges sake!”

“Nice save, dude,” Ned laughed.

“Babies are like sponges, Ned!” Peter defended. “Abby’s first word will start with ‘f’ and rhyme with ‘duck’ with the way Tony carries on in the workshop sometimes. One of us has to try and undo all that damage!”

“Okay, first of all, you take your baby into the workshop? Is that… I dunno, advisable?”

Peter brushed the comment off with a sweeping motion of his hand. “We put her in her bouncer, or one of us wears her in a papoose, and we don’t do anything dangerous while she’s down there – mostly just holo-screen stuff. It’s perfectly safe, _mom_.”

“And secondly, I mean, isn’t she like, three months old?” Ned said, his character on the screen shaking some trees and collecting apples. “Surely, she’s too young to be picking up words yet. Plus, I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that ‘f’ sounds are like, super difficult for babies to master. So, statistically speaking, she probably won’t have the enunciating capabilities to have ‘fuck’ as her first word.”

Peter stared at his best friend incredulously, hoping that the full force of his expression could be felt through their video link.

“I’m just saying!” Ned defended, holding up both of his hands.

Peter chuckled, giving the top of Abby’s head a quick kiss before turning his attention back to the game. From their position, he could smell the subtle strawberry scent of her baby shampoo still clinging to the strands of her chestnut hair from her bath the previous night.

“So, are you going out to do you-know-what as you-know-who tonight?” Ned half-whispered, trying and failing as always to be discreet about Peter’s superhero-ing adventures, even though he had already told Peter that his roommate was in their dorm’s communal bathroom taking a shower, so wouldn’t be able to overhear them anyway.

The question made Peter pause. 

Juggling Spider-Man and being a new dad had been… difficult to say the least. Peter had naively thought that nothing would really have to change; Tony could babysit, and Peter could still maintain his hero-ing duties. Obviously, he had known he wouldn’t be able to go out as Spider-Man quite as often as he had before, but things wouldn’t have to alter that much, right?

Wrong.

Firstly, he hadn’t accounted for how much he would _want_ to spend time with Abby. He had thought that with no job and no school and a baby to care for twenty-four-seven that he would be grateful for the little breaks that Spider-Man would allow him. And then Abby had been born. And that idea had flown right out the window, along with his sleeping pattern.

He _loved_ his daughter. Like, a love that he had never felt before in his life. It consumed him, and despite the crying and the pooping and the spit up, he found the desire to spend every waking moment with her grow more and more each day. He loved protecting his city too, of course. And he knew he had a duty to do so for as long as he was able; he wanted his daughter to grow up in a city that was safe after all, and Spider-Man contributed to that heavily. But that sense of duty didn’t make shouldering the burden, especially as a new father, any easier.

It was a balancing act.

So, Spider-Man’s schedule had changed from patrolling almost every night, and during the day sometimes, to patrolling every other night; a compromise he could allow himself to live with, at least until Abby got a little older.

But then there was the other issue.

The issue that he hadn’t had the foresight to predict.

Being Spider-Man since becoming a father felt… different. Of course, he still loved it; swinging through the city, looking out for the little guy; it was what Peter was born to do.

But, since becoming a father, whenever he went out as Spider-Man, he felt a fear that he had never experienced before. Some of the shit he got himself into was _dangerous_. And now he had more than just himself to think about.

He had grown up without his parents. He knew that loss; the dark shadow of negative space that seemed to follow you around wherever you went when you were an orphan.

No one to bring to career day.

Always circling ‘guardian’ on permission slips.

Avoiding malls around Mother’s Day or Father’s Day to try and kid himself into pretending the holidays didn’t exist.

Of course, he’d always had Ben and May… until he didn’t anymore.

Every time he went on patrol and put himself in danger, he thought of Abby having to grow up like that. And the thought made him sick to his stomach.

It didn’t stop him, of course. He wanted – no, _needed_ – to protect the city. To protect his daughter. But he was more cautious. He didn’t take as many unnecessary risks. He asked for back-up more often – Tony always more than happy to send an unmanned suit to assist. He called the police before he attacked when he could, reducing one-on-one fight time.

Being careful didn’t stop the fear – Peter doubted anything would ever stop it completely – but knowing he was taking steps to be more careful where he could it made it easier to manage the complex and conflicting feelings of shouldering the joyous burden of being a hero and a father. He slept better at night knowing that he was doing everything in his power to keep himself safe for Abby’s sake. It meant less frequent visits to the Med-Bay too, which also pleased Tony…

“Nah, not tonight,” he finally replied. “I’ve got tonight off. Plus, we’re hosting our first gala for The Parker Foundation,” Peter smiled, both excited and terrified at the prospect. The gala was being held on one of the lower levels of the Tower, and would be the coming together of many young single parents and their kids that had already benefitted from the foundation’s help, and a bunch of Tony’s uber-rich friends, hopefully, ready to donate some big wads of cash to their cause.

It would also be Peter’s first official outing, not only as the patron of the foundation but also as Tony Stark’s son. Thankfully, the gala being held in the Tower meant that there would be no press. Still, Peter was more than aware that all eyes would be on him tonight. He just hoped the guest’s curiosity was at least reflected in their donations.

“I still can’t believe Mr Stark got you a foundation for your birthday! Your life is so cool, man!”

“Hey, look who’s talking Mr Big-Shot! Studying computer science at CalTech is pretty sweet, dude!” Peter tried to impart as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could, but it still sounded a little flat to his ears. He hoped Ned didn’t notice.

It had been pretty hard, watching via social media last month as all his peers from school moved away to college. Peter never regretted his decision to take a year off – in fact, the break from a set curriculum and the pressures of assignments of school was actually quite nice – but, the irrational part of his mind couldn’t help feeling a little left behind.

Watching on Instastories as Ned, and Flash, and Betty, and everyone else from their year moved into their dorms and started their classes also brought up unwanted thoughts of MJ.

As much as Peter tried to keep the mother of his child off his mind as much as he was able, thoughts of the girl would still rear their head now and again, sometimes triggered by something completely random and sometimes far easier to predict.

Peter was still hurt by MJ’s actions, but that didn’t stop him from wondering how she was. Which college had she finally decided on? Was she happy with her major? Was she making new friends?

Did she ever tell them about him and Abby?

He had to assume she never did, considering that if she had, the press would have likely gotten ahold of the story. Still, the not knowing for sure was torturous. And what was even worse was that part of Peter wanted to forget the girl completely; erase her from his memory and never have to endure the pain of thinking of her again. But Peter had learnt that the feelings you have for someone don’t just disappear overnight, even if that person hurt you immeasurably, no matter how much you wished they would.

Thoughts of college brought up thoughts of MJ; hoping she was happy and healthy, wherever she was, whatever she was doing. But it also brought up feelings of pitty.

Pitty for the woman who would never know their incredible child. 

“I mean, it’s no secret identity, billionaire dad or newborn daughter, but its’s pretty cool,” Ned smiled, interrupting Peter’s sombre thoughts and bringing him back to the present. “I just wish it wasn’t on the other side of the country, though! I miss you, man.”

“I miss you too, dude! At least you’ll be back in the city for winter break.”

The thought of having to wait months to see his best friend when the two were so used to seeing each other almost every day gave Peter an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Ned was off at college, making new friends, while Peter was in New York with what felt like no-one. Obviously, he had Tony and Abby and the rest of his family, but he couldn’t help but crave the company of people his own age as well. He wouldn’t give up Abby for the world, but equally, winter break couldn’t come fast enough.

Ned hummed in agreement as their characters perused the animated museum on the screen of the TV.

“Are you taking Abby to the gala tonight?” Ned asked.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, giving the chubby leg of the girl in question a quick squeeze, “all the parents we’ve invited have been told they can bring their kids if they like, so it’d be kind of weird to rock up without my own,” Peter laughed. “Plus, even rich people can’t say no to a baby. Hopefully, she helps us with donations, too.”

“Man, imagine attending your first gala at three months old. Abby’s already cooler than us,” Ned sighed dramatically.

After a few moments, mostly filled with Ned bitching about one of his new professors, Peter noticed Abby look towards the door of his bedroom; a newly developed habit of hers that almost always meant Tony was about to enter a room.

His daughter was growing more and more aware every day and Peter found every milestone as exciting and wonderous as the last. He was almost certain that Abby recognised him and Tony now – she would turn her head to look at them, kicking her feet and arms in what Peter deduced was happiness – whereas before, he was pretty sure the girl saw he and Tony as just unidentifiable blobs that brought the milk whenever she screamed.

Her personality had begun to shine through too. She had started showing a preference to which toys she reached for during tummy time – soft, fluffy teddies were in, noisy plastic rattles were out – and could make quite clear which aspects of the day she enjoyed and which she didn’t – walks in the park and cuddles were her favourite pastimes, being woken up from a nap and bath time? Not so much.

Sure enough, barely ten seconds after Abby looked towards the door, Tony stepped through it, knocking gently on the door frame to announce his presence.

“Hey, Pete. Hey, Abby. Hi, Ted,” Tony smirked, giving the latter a two-fingered salute through the video link.

“Hey, Mr Stank,” Ned replied mischievously, the nickname courtesy of his hero-worship towards Tony finally wearing off a little, and a college story from Rhodey at Tony’s expense that had had Ned and Peter laughing so hard they squirted milk out of their noses. It also maybe had something to the with the fact that he was three thousand miles away so in no immediate danger from the billionaire’s wrath.

Tony chuckled good-naturedly before turning towards Peter, his eyes growing soft at the sight of Abby sat contently in her father’s arms. “Pete, I was just checking whether or not you wanted me to feed Abby before this shindig tonight or whether you were doing it?”

Peter spared the StarkWatch on his wrist a quick glance. “Oh, shit, sorry Tony, I didn’t realise the time. Would you mind? I still need to shower.”

“Not a problem, kiddo,” Tony said, reaching to grab Abby under the arms and hoist her up until she was resting on his hip, Tony supporting her bottom with his Iron Arm and cradling the back of her head with the other. “We have about an hour until Pepper is up here cracking the whip, that good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s plenty of time, thanks, Tony.”

Tony left with Abby, and after saying a quick goodbye to Ned, Peter set about getting himself ready for the gala.

Just under an hour later, he found himself entering the elevator with his little family and descending towards the Tower’s ballroom where the event was being held. He held Abby in his arms, the little girl outfitted in a sweet Burberry dress and white leggings that Pepper had insisted on buying her for the occasion. Honestly, Peter hadn’t even been aware that designer labels made clothing for babies – what was the point in spending all that money when they would grow out of the items within a few weeks? – but he couldn’t deny his daughter looked beyond cute in the little getup.

Peter himself had gone far more casual with his outfit, opting for smart dress trousers and a button-up shirt tucked into the waist. He was told that a gala like this would have normally been black-tie, but having realised it was unlikely many of the young beneficiaries of the charity that would be attending would own such an outfit, they had opted for a smart casual dress code instead.

The dress code meant absolutely nothing to Tony of course, who was dressed one of his many iconic three-piece suits. (“If I’m going to schmooze a few million out of those stiffs tonight, I need to dress to impress, kiddo.”)

The elevator doors opened onto the Tower’s fifth floor where they were greeted by Pepper who gave them a quick briefing on how the evening would run; an hour or so of introductions, drinks and hors d'oeuvres before Peter would give a brief speech (was he terrified about that bit? Absolutely.), and then an indiscriminate amount of time spent mingling and working the crowd. Peter would concentrate on chatting with the young parents, learning first-hand how the foundation was helping so far, and areas that they could improve on. Tony’s main objective was to sweet-talk the benefactors into donating as much money as possible.

According to the latest figures, presented to Peter at weekly meetings that had been arranged to allow him to actually keep on top of the activity of the charity, the foundation had already helped a lot of people thanks to an influx of generous donations after Peter’s outing as Tony’s son. The goal of tonight’s gala was to keep that momentum going and get a healthy injection of cash from some of Tony’s most wealthy acquaintances at the same time.

“Okay, boys,” Pepper said finally, “let’s go raise some money.”

She turned, pure grace and elegance as always, and lead them through the double doors into the ballroom.

The room was cavernous and decorated decadently for the occasion in classic Stark Style. Pepper had gone for a monochrome theme, with accents of gold; every available surface seemingly dripping with crystals or handsome flower arrangements, that all tied together perfectly. Their guests had already arrived, so the room was abuzz with chatter and laughter as people mingled, the smartly dressed waiters sweeping in and out of the invitees with smooth, well-practised movements, as they balanced trays laden with drinks and finger-food effortlessly.

“Gotta keep the pompous trust-fund babies happy, kiddo,” Tony winked, noticing Peter’s stares at the extravagant decorations.

The first hour of introductions passed smoothly. Peter was surprised by how comfortable he felt rubbing shoulders with the room’s more wealthy occupants. It probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t left Pepper and Tony’s side at all so far, plus the reassuring weight of Abby in his arms, but he was pretty proud of himself, all things considered.

The speech was terrifying, as Peter had expected it to be. Far more intimidating than the press conference. Thankfully, his speech had been written by Pepper and was short and sweet whilst maintaining sincerity. It covered all the basics; thank you for coming, here’s what the foundation has achieved so far, here’s how your money helps, please donate generously… Having Tony stood at the side of the stage with Abby in his arms to look at when he felt his nerve bubbling up definitely helped, too.

After the speech, their little group split up for a while, allowing Tony to talk boring business with some of his old MIT peers while Peter chatted away happily to some of the other young parents in attendance. It was heart-warming to get to hear how many people their fledgeling foundation had helped already.

He was over by the bar, the server pouring him a chute of non-alcoholic champagne when a girl with dark auburn hair, around Peter’s age, with a chubby baby boy on her hip a considerable few months older than Abby, approached him. He hadn’t had the chance to be introduced to her earlier, Peter noted, but he smiled as she approached uncertainly anyway.

“Um, Mr Parker-Stark, sir? Do you have a second?”

“Hey,” he greeted kindly, hoping to put the girl at ease, “of course! And you can just call me Peter. The rest is a bit of a mouthful.”

The girl returned his smile, her shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I’m Grace Cline, and this is Stanley,” she continued, adjusting the baby – Stanley – until she had him balanced in her left arm, holding out her right hand for Peter to shake.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Peter, obviously, and this is Abby.”

“Obviously,” Grace teased before seeming to remember who she was speaking to and clearing her throat awkwardly. “Anyway, um, sorry, I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say thank you, you know, for everything the foundation has done. It – it’s literally changed our lives,” she said, bouncing Stanley on her hip to show who the ‘our’ she was referring to was, despite it being obvious.

Peter could tell she was ridiculously nervous, and honestly, he could relate to that on a spiritual level. It reminded him of how he had been around Tony at the start. It had taken Peter months to become comfortable around him, but now he knew what a goofball the man was underneath the scary billionaire mask he wore. Peter was aware that his new status as Tony Stark’s son was going to make people a little nervous around him. But Grace seemed nice. He hoped he could convince her that he was just a normal guy that she didn’t need to walk on eggshells around, just because of his superhero, saviour of the modern world father figure. 

“When my mom found out I was pregnant last year, she kicked me out,” Grace continued, almost as though it was a relief to get it off her chest. Peter noticed how she held Stanley’s hand in her own, seeking comfort from the small boy. “Anyway, I had to drop out of school and get a job – apartments in New York aren’t cheap, you know? Well, I don’t know if you do know but…” She didn’t say it unkindly, but Peter felt the need to defend himself anyway.

“I do know,” he smiled reassuringly. “Before I moved in with Tony, I lived with my aunt in Queens. I never knew that much about our financials, but I knew the rent was crazy expensive; my aunt had to take extra shifts at the hospital all the time just to keep our heads above water. She was amazing.”

“Exactly!” Grace agreed, the relief at Peter’s understanding palpable on her face.

“But the foundation has been able to help you?” Peter prompted. He knew, of course, what his foundation did on an overarching level; the money was distributed to young parents in need – especially those without parents or family to help them – for basically anything they might require, including clothing, food, housing and childcare. Peter was all too aware of how privileged he was to have someone like Tony on his side and knew that a lot of kids weren’t as lucky.

During the gala, he’d enjoyed being able to listen to the more personal and individual stories of the parents the foundation had supported so far, so he was intrigued to hear how Grace and Stanley had benefitted.

“The foundation has literally – _literally_ been a lifeline for us. It’s helping me cover my rent and bills and everything... And one of the employees, Shirley I think her name was? She helped me find a nursery for Stanley and… and yeah, basically, I’m going back to school! I’m going to get my high school diploma and maybe even go to college and… none of that would have ever been possible without the foundation’s help.” She cleared her throat and Peter noticed that her eyes had taken on a mistiness that hadn’t been there before. “So, yeah, just thank you – you and Mr Stark – thank you for everything.”

Peter swallowed the lump in this own throat, holding Abby a little tighter in his arms. “That’s – that’s amazing, Grace. I’m so glad to hear the foundation has been able to help, and I know that Tony would be as well,” he smiled.

Helping people had always been his _thing_. It was why he first became Spider-Man, after all. And knowing that, through the foundation, he was reaching and helping even more people? It was the best gift he’d ever gotten.

“Yeah, well…” Grace smiled shyly. “I just couldn’t leave here tonight without letting you know how much you’ve changed our lives. It’s corny, I know, but…”

“Not corny at all,” Peter assured. “It means a lot actually, so thank _you_.”

After a few more moments of idle chat, Grace excused herself, and Peter found himself wandering the room again, his thoughts still with the girl who said he’d changed her life.

That night, once the gala was over – having been a roaring success according to Pepper – and he and Abby were tucked up in their beds in the penthouse, Peter thought back to his conversation with Ned earlier that day. Sure, he wasn’t at college yet, broadening his knowledge and ideals, partying every night, and all that jazz. But he was helping people, every day with the foundation and every other night as Spider-Man, and he was doing it all with Tony and his daughter by his side.

And he realised; he hadn’t been left behind by his peers at all.

He was simply treading a different path.


	6. November - Warning: Kids Cause Heart Palpitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter was out for the evening, Spider-Manning in the city, which meant that Tony was on baby duty. Not that he minded, of course. Spending time with the ankle biter was his second favourite pastime, only beaten by spending time with both Abby and Peter.  
> He sat down, shuffling carefully until he was lounging across the couch with Abby laid atop his chest, shushing her as he went.  
> He had a feeling tonight was going to be a long one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello there!  
> Welcome back and thanks for sticking with this story!  
> I'd like to say thank you so so much, from the bottom of my heart, to all of you who have left such amazing comments on this fic so far. I sound like a broken record when I say that it means the world to me, but it really, truly does, so please know that you are so appreciated!  
> This chap is just pure, unadulterated, tooth-rotting fluff (just like the rest of this self-indulgent fic, lmaooo), so please enjoy!

“Okay, Abs, what are we thinking? The Great British Bake Off or Gilmore Girls? I’ll let you pick.” The baby in Tony’s arms ignored him completely, concentrating instead on sucking the collar of his button-down shirt like she had been doing for the past twenty minutes since he had fed the girl her bottle. Tony carried on, unperturbed by the fact that his only company was completely disinterested by what he had to say. “On the one hand, I’m feeling GBBO because that lady who judges it is so wholesome and who doesn’t love cake, am I right? But on the other hand, Gilmore Girl’s has that nostalgia, you know? Plus, it helps remind me that I’m not the only parent with a sarcastic teenager to try and manhandle into adulthood….” Abby reached up an uncoordinated hand, patting Tony’s well-groomed goatee a couple of times – a favourite pastime of hers, along with grabbing and pulling – as she continued to suckle on his clothing. “Don’t tell your dad I said that.”

The little girl blinked up at him owlishly before letting out a screech, her little legs kicking unhappily against Tony’s stomach as he stood in front of the living room flatscreen, holding her against himself with one hand and the TV remote in the other, flicking through his options on Netflix.

Peter was out for the evening, Spider-Manning in the city, which meant that Tony was on baby duty. Not that he minded, of course. Spending time with the ankle biter was his second favourite pastime, only beaten by spending time with both Abby _and_ Peter.

“Okay, that was rude,” Tony deadpanned as the little girl continued to kick up a fuss. “I’m going to assume that your objection means you’re voting for our lord and saviour Mary Berry, so Bake Off it is,” he continued, pressing the remote until the lively theme tune of the show was playing through the speakers.

He sat down, shuffling carefully until he was lounging across the couch with Abby laid atop his chest, shushing her as he went. Once the pair were situated comfortably, Tony grabbed the blanket that was strewn across the back of the couch, pulling it over himself and Abby, ensuring his favourite little human was cosy in their position.

He had a feeling tonight was going to be a long one.

You see, Tony had always assumed that Abby would grow up to be advanced for her age. With a father like Peter – genius-level intelligence (not that he would admit it) and immeasurably compassionate – plus growing up in a home with not only Tony – whose credentials as ‘incredibly advanced human being’ spoke for themselves – but also Pepper and Rhodey and Bruce, and even Happy… well, the kid was going to be hard pushed to not be a genius. Tony just hadn’t expected the early surpassing of developmental stages to start so soon.

At four months old, Abby was teething.

When the little girl had first started showing the signs of the dreaded stage of life, Tony and Peter had passed it off as something else; a little cold perhaps? All of the baby forums they perused stated that most kids didn’t start teething until at least six months. Dr Montgomery however, had assured them that babies can actually start teething from as young as three months old and confirmed with no level of uncertainty that Abby _was_ teething. There were no actual teeth yet, of course. Just sore and sensitive gums attached to a very unhappy little girl who didn’t understand that her family were doing everything they could to help her.

Abby lay comfortably on Tony’s chest as he reclined on the sofa, lifting her head slightly to look up at the man with wide, teary eyes as a contestant on the TV overcooked his chocolate ganache.

“Aww, Abs. Don’t look at me like that, honey,” Tony said quietly, stroking his left hand through the curls atop the girl’s head comfortingly. “You know grandpa would take the pain away if he could.”

It was another couple of hours until he’d be able to reapply more numbing gel to Abby’s gums – he had timed the applications carefully so that he’d be able to apply the final dose just before he put the girl down for bed – and her teething ring had only been in the refrigerator for a few minutes so wouldn’t be cool enough to use just yet. He made a mental note to have F.R.I.D.A.Y. order more so that they could always have one ready for the girl to use.

Abby let out another little sob. Tony wished she were old enough to understand the words of comfort that he whispered to her so that she knew that the pain would pass and that he was doing everything within his ability to alleviate her discomfort. It was all well and good being a superhero – okay, _mostly retired_ superhero, details, details – but even superheroes couldn’t do anything more than the average man when it came to a teething child.

After a few minutes of soothing, Abby fell into a fitful doze, her face relaxed and mouth slightly agape as she finally found a moment of relief from her soreness. Tony ignored the TV in favour of drinking in the presence of the little girl.

God, she was perfect. He didn’t even care that he was biased. She was the most perfect creation to ever exist, and he wouldn’t hear another word said on the subject. It made sense if he thought about it, of course. Peter was beyond amazing, it was only to be expected that his kid would be too.

It was weird. For a long time, Tony hadn’t thought he had the space in his heart to love someone as fully and deeply and as all-encompassing as he loved Peter. He didn’t think he had the ability. He had tried to love before. Tried to love the men and women that he brought home after a boozy night at the bar, tried to love the people that threw themselves at him in the street. He had tried to love his own father. And sometimes, he could convince himself that he did; when he thought about the Howard that gave Tony the key to saving his own life rather than the Howard that was cold and uncaring towards his son.

It wasn’t that Tony hadn’t experienced love before. His mother had loved him, and Jarvis had, too. He knew Pepper loved him, and Rhodey, and Happy.

But then he had met Peter.

Peter came along and took everything Tony thought he knew about love and flipped it completely on its head. His heart had grown so full of love for the kid that it was both crushing and indescribably uplifting, all at the same time. When Peter loved you, it was an open, honest kind of love. A gasp of fresh air after escaping a burning building. Finding land after being stranded at sea. The first sight of your kid on the battlefield after a horrific five years apart…

When Peter loved you, it was inexplicable. It was a privilege, to be loved by him.

And when Abby had come along, a part of Tony had been worried. His heart was already so full, how would he ever be able to make room to love another human the way he loved his kid?

The thought had kept him up at night on more than one occasion in the lead up to Abby’s birth. But then he had laid his eyes on the girl for the first time, held her in his arms and cradled her as she cried, and that fear just melted away, like it had never existed in the first place.

Why had he ever been worried? He didn’t have to split his heart in two to love both of his kids. Instead, his heart had grown; doubling in size and making room for Abby as though the space had always been there. As though the cosmos had had it planned that way all along.

Gazing down at Abby’s sleeping face, Tony stopped to take stock of just how lucky he was. The universe had chewed him and spat him out, but his reward was well worth the suffering. Getting to spend the rest of his life as a parent to the most incredible kid was prize enough. But then to have been blessed with Abby? Well, that was just the cherry on top of the metaphorical sundae that was Tony’s life.

And it was such a blessing – Jesus, he sounded like a Kardashian, but it was true – to be able to watch Peter grow into adulthood and fatherhood respectively. The kid had taken to being a dad like a duck to water and Tony couldn’t be _prouder_. Sure, he had his moments of doubt, which parent didn’t? (Peter was basically a fully cooked human being, and Tony still found himself doubting the simplest things when it came to the kid). He wished Peter could see himself through Tony’s eyes so that he could truly appreciate how exceptional and what a gift to the world he was. Of course, part of Peter’s charm was his modesty; his constant strive to achieve better and be better, it was just who the kid was. So, Tony would just have to keep telling him how amazing he was until he believed it. 

On top of being a remarkable father, Peter had also achieved in mere months what Tony had never managed fully in his entire life.

He had the press wrapped around his little finger.

The tabloids _loved_ Peter.

The plan to feed the press _just enough_ information about Peter and Abby to keep the public’s appetite sated was, so far, working perfectly. Peter would upload a picture or short video of himself, or himself and Abby, or even sometimes of himself, Abby _and_ Tony (if Tony was in a particularly giving mood) to his Instagram every couple of days and the public always lapped it up. The pictures were never anything crazy; Peter working on some Foundation business on his laptop, a short video of Abby in her bouncer, letting out happy screams and giggles as she bounced up and down, a picture of Tony’s back as he pushed the stroller down the streets of New York. But no matter how mundane the subject, Peter’s followers (and the rest of the world) loved it.

It also probably helped that Peter was just naturally _likeable_. He used cute captions on his Instagram posts, never bothering to censor his love for fatherhood, or Abby, or Tony, or _life_. He chatted to fans in the street when he could. He actively promoted The Parker Foundation and got as involved as possible with the day to day running of the charity. He just _was_. He was his open and genuine and kind self, and that’s what the people loved.

Naturally, it didn’t stop them from having to deal with the paparazzi daily. Reporters were _still_ camped outside of the Tower and would usually follow them whenever they left, but unlike Tony had ever experienced (and with help from the new security team he had hired for Peter and Abby), they did tend to keep a semi-respectable distance. It wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable, and that was more than Tony had ever expected

So, yeah. Life was pretty incredible. He truly couldn’t be happier, even if the kids did turn him into a sap and give him heart palpitations on multiple occasions.

An episode and a half later – because that how you measure the passing of time when you have a sleeping baby holding you hostage – Abby began to stir. Tony took the opportunity to make his way to the kitchen and grab the now chilled teething ring from the refrigerator, holding it out for a grateful Abby to latch onto before she had the chance to cry.

He was making his way back towards the living room when F.R.I.D.A.Y. came over the speakers.

What was he saying about kids and heart palpitations again?

“ _Boss, you have a call from Peter. Patching him through now.”_

Tony tried to quell the immediate feeling of panic that attempted to settle over him, rationalising that Peter called just as often to tell him about nice old ladies buying him snacks as he did to tell him about injuries or near-death encounters.

He heard the faint click as the call connected.

“Tony?” came his kid’s voice, finally.

“Pete? What’s happening, bud? Everything okay?”

“Um, well, I mean, you know you and I have very different definitions of _okay…_ I’m not dying or anything…”

“That’s reassuring.”

“…but I’m probably going to need you to send a suit…”

“Less reassuring.” Tony tapped his StarkWatch a couple of times behind Abby’s back as he held her, deploying an unmanned suit to Peter’s location immediately. “Put me out of my misery, Pete, what’s happening?”

“I’ve been stabbed,” Peter rushed out as if saying it quickly would make Tony panic any less. His grip on Abby tightened, just a little. “Just in the hand so you know, not life-threatening, but the knife is still in there and you always say not to pull them out – even though this one is pretty small, honestly – so I don’t think I’ll be able to use my web-shooters to swing back to the Tower, and …”

“Okay,” Tony interrupted Peter’s ramblings, “first of all, I’m glad to see that the countless times I’ve had to yell at you not to pull the knife out of your body, it’s finally paying off…”

“I know, personal growth, it’s amazing, right?”

“…Secondly, a suit is on its way, should be with you in a few minutes. Sit tight and enjoy the ride and I’ll get the medical kit ready.”

“Thanks, Tony, you’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Peter hung up and Tony made his way to the kid’s bedroom; he couldn’t exactly perform minor surgery with a baby in his arms, so Abby would have to go down for a nap. She was being a little fussy, but the teething ring had had the desired effect, so Tony was quietly confident she would go without too much of a fight. Plus, he and the kid had an unspoken agreement to try and keep Abby as far away from Peter’s Spidey-related injuries as much as possible. Tony wasn’t exactly well-versed on the cognitive development of infants, but he doubted seeing your dad bleeding all over the kitchen twice a month was exactly healthy for a developing mind.

He had already changed Abby into a fluffy onesie – one of the girl’s favourites, it’s soft texture perfect for the Spider-Baby’s oversensitive skin – earlier in the night. It should have been a simple case of removing the teething toy from her mouth and lay her gently in the crib.

 _Should have been_ , being the operative phrase.

Leaning over the crib, one hand supporting the base of Abby’s back and the other cradling the nape of her neck, Tony lowered the fussing girl slowly like he had done so many times before…

Only to be met with resistance.

_What the fuck?_

Tony looked down.

The baby girl’s face was crumpled in unhappiness, her tiny hands fisted in the material of Tony’s shirt – the grasping motion a skill that Abby had developed only very recently and was still working on perfecting.

As carefully as he could, Tony attempted to prise one of the chubby hands from his clothes only to realise…

“Well, _fuck_.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Tony found himself back in the living room. Bruce was setting up his medical equipment on the coffee table while Tony wandered the room, one hand still supporting Abby against his chest and the other, once again, holding the teething ring for the baby to gnaw and suckle on.

Barely a minute later the unmanned suit arrived on the Tower’s landing pad, visible through the floor to ceiling windows of the living room, unceremoniously carrying Spider-Man in its arms. Peter disembarked from his ride quickly, always embarrassed at having to be carried home, and strode towards the doors, cradling his left arm against his chest, the knife glinting in the moonlight as it jutted out of his hand. Tony felt his stomach lurch. How many times had he seen his kid injured? It never got any easier.

“Hey, Underoos,” Tony greeted as Peter entered the room, pulling his mask off quickly using his non-impaled hand. Tony was careful to stand so that Abby’s back was to Peter. He couldn’t put her down, but he could still save her impressionable mind from the trauma of seeing her dad all bloodied up.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter sighed, plopping himself down into an armchair and wincing as the movement sent jolts of pain through his injured hand. “Oh,” Peter said, noticing Bruce for the first time. “What’s Bruce doing here?” Peter asked, although not rudely.

“You do realise you have a knife sticking out of your hand, right?” Tony deadpanned.

“Well, yeah. But it’s only a scratch, Tony,” Peter assured as blood dripped down his arm and pooled on the leg of his suit. “You’ve patched me up from worse before, there was no need to bother Bruce.”

“That is frighteningly true, Underoos. But I can’t stitch you back together time.”

“Why? Abby’ll be fine if you put her down for few minutes…”

Tony held up the hand that wasn’t supporting Abby, effectively silencing Peter. “We’ve got a bit of a sticky situation,” Tony eluded. He used the same hand to gently grasp Abby’s wrist where her hand lay against his shirt, pulling the limb back from his chest slowly and watching as the fabric of his shirt came away with it.

Peter watched the movement closely, his confusion fading to unbridled shock as he watched his daughter's hand _stick_ to Tony’s clothes.

“Oh, shit,” Peter whispered.

“Yeah. So, there’s that. Going to be real fun when she learns how to crawl and toddle...”

“Oh, shit.”

“... how does one Spider-Baby proof _walls_?”

“Oh, _shit_.”

“So yeah, that’s why Brucie-Bear is here. Nurse Tony is off duty until the little bug decides to set me free.”

The doctor in question let out a chuckle, moving quietly to Peter’s side so that he could begin to tend the wound. 

“Has she been doing that all night?” Peter asked, his eyes wide, the revelation acting as a perfect distraction as Bruce set about injecting Peter’s hand with some souped-up painkillers, ready to remove the knife. Where Peter would usually be cringing away from the needle, this time he hardly flinched, his eyes locked onto Abby and Tony instead.

“Well, she’s been laid with me all night, so it’s hard to say. I only noticed after you called, and I went to go put her down. I don’t know how much control she has over it, but she was adamant not to be put in her crib and this was certainly one way of getting what she wanted.”

“Wow,” Peter breathed.

“I’ve already had F.R.I.D.A.Y. add it to her file,” Bruce said as he began stitching. “Do you remember much about when you first got your powers? I know it was a little different, but it might give us some idea as to how the power will develop?”

“Er, yeah,” Peter stumbled, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, “I – I stuck to everything, to begin with. It was super difficult to manage actually… It took me, I don’t know, maybe a month or so to get it under control? It still happens sometimes – sticking to things accidentally – usually if I’m super upset or angry or whatever.”

Tony knew this already. When May had passed away, he had spent many a night sleeping on the sofa with Peter after the kid would fall asleep, his hands uncontrollably attached to wherever they had been clinging to Tony in grief.

Bruce hummed thoughtfully as he tied off the last stitch. Thankfully, after being cleaned, the wound appeared smaller than was first evident. Tony was proud of Peter for calling for help for what was, for him, a relatively minor injury; there was a time when he would have ignored all sense and reason and attempted to swing home one-handed – anything to avoid asking for help.

“I would think it’ll be similar for Abby then,” Bruce mused. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she masters her stickiness faster than you did, since she’s growing up with it rather than developing it suddenly. I expect strong emotions will affect her powers the same, though. That’s probably what happened tonight.”

“The prospect of the terrible twos just got a whole lot more exciting,” Tony smiled wryly, earning a playful groan from Peter.

“I’ll leave you two to contemplate that,” Bruce chuckled, packing away his things.

“Thanks again, Brucie.”

“Yeah, thank you, Bruce.”

The doctor gave a two-fingered salute as he stepped into the elevator and out of sight.

Peter stood from the armchair, moving across the room towards Tony and bringing his non-stabbed hand up to stroke his daughters flushed cheeks with feather-light touches. Tony was impressed with how Peter was taking the news that his daughter had inherited another power from him. Admittedly, after realising the girl had some semblance of Spidey-Senses, they had expected that she would develop more powers over time, but confirmation of that being true was still pretty shocking. Peter never ceased to make him proud.

“So, apart from the stickiness, how’s she been?”

“Yeah, she’s been okay, better than yesterday, I don’t think her gums have been as sore today. She managed a little sleep earlier to the dulcet tones of Mary Berry, and the ring in the refrigerator has definitely been a hit.” Abby let out a little coo around the ring in question, as though she were agreeing with him. “She’s due some more numbing gel anytime now, so how about I sort that and heat you some of yesterday’s takeout whilst you shower and change? Your stink is assaulting my nose so I can’t imagine what Abby’s having to go through,” Tony winked, earning him a playful shove from Peter.

“Now you know what we have to go through when we have to drag you out of the workshop after God knows how long!”

“Hmm, maybe I won't bother heating that Thai up after all…”

“Okay, okay, I take it back,” Peter laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.

“That’s what I thought. Now chop-chop! Family cuddle time in t-minus twenty, and you know Abby doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Yeah, it’s _definitely_ Abby…” Tony heard Peter mumble as he made his way down the hall towards his room.

Peter emerged from his bedroom fifteen minutes later dressed in grey sweats and one of Tony’s many ‘missing’ sweatshirts, his hair still dripping from the shower. He made a beeline for the piping hot takeout container on the kitchen island before crashing down onto the sofa beside Tony, proceeding to spread himself out until he was using the elder man’s lap as a pillow. 

“So, what are we watching?”

“ _We_ are not watching anything until _you_ sit up.” Tony used the hand that wasn’t supporting Abby against his chest to prod Peter until the teen complied with a huff, sitting up but still continuing to lean heavily against Tony’s side. “How many times do I have to tell you to sit up whilst you eat? You’re already a walking talking choking hazard with the way you shovel it in…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, old man,” Peter replied with a playful eye-roll, totally unbothered as he stuffed noodles into his cavernous mouth.

Tony gestured to Abby. “You’re supposed to be setting an example for the youth of tomorrow.”

“Da youf of t’morrow ‘s asleep,” Peter managed around his mouthful, nodding his head towards where Abby had dozed off, her rosy cheek pressed against Tony’s chest where the arc reactor used to sit so many years ago.

“Numbing gel must be doing its job then.”

“Hmm,” Peter agreed, popping the now empty takeout container – seriously, how the fuck did the kid put food away so fast? – onto the coffee table before returning to his rightful position; head using Tony’s lap as a glorified pillow.

“Are you comfortable, your majesty?” Tony snarked light-heartedly as Peter fidgeted, getting himself into the perfect position.

Peter kept up his playful shuffling for a few minutes, just for added effect, before finally settling. “Yes, thank you,” he sighed haughtily.

Tony chuckled, draping the blanket he and Abby had been using earlier over Peter’s shoulders and tucking him in, earning himself a contented sigh from the kid, who, now that his wound was tended and his stomach was full, was already half asleep.

“Thanks, T’ny,” Peter breathed, his eyes falling shut. “Love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo,” Tony whispered back, fingers combing through his kids damp curls until his breaths evened out, becoming steady and deep.

A quick test proved that Abby’s hands were still stuck to his shirt, even in sleep. And with his eldest Spider-Baby now snoring away softly in his lap, Tony shuffled a little to get himself comfortable, resigning himself to being stuck there for a while, not that he minded at all. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Fri, play The Great British Bake Off on low.”

His kids could rest, safe in his arms. Tony would look after them.


	7. December - Christmas with the Starks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the past few years, Christmas morning for the Starks always began the same. They woke early to a delivery of four beautiful bouquets of flowers. Each a different type and different colour, but all stunning and handsomely arranged in their own right. Getting such a delivery on Christmas morning meant a hefty surcharge, but neither Tony nor even Peter was concerned about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo everybody!   
> First of all, my deepest apologies for not getting a chapter out to you last weekend. I work for myself and the past couple of weeks have been crazzyyyyyy busy, and unfortunately, whilst that's amazing for my business (woohoo!), it doesn't leave much time or energy for writing (*cries in the club*)! On top of that, this chapter has literally been the worst and has not treated me kindly, lmao, and I really didn't want to put something out that I'd had to rush or that I wasn't happy with. I hope you guys understand. (Whilst I do try and keep my uploads as regular as possible, I can't promise that this won’t ever happen again, so make sure you're following me on Tumblr, because that's where I'll let you know if things are going to be late!)   
> Secondly, yes this is a Christmas themed chapter in October, and I hope you enjoy.   
> Thanks for sticking with me and for all of the support, it's so so appreciated! <3

For the past few years, Christmas morning for the Starks always began the same. They woke early to a delivery of four beautiful bouquets of flowers. Each a different type and different colour, but all stunning and handsomely arranged in their own right. Getting such a delivery on Christmas morning meant a hefty surcharge, but neither Tony nor even Peter was concerned about that.

Once the flowers had arrived, they donned their warmest winter coats, headed to the garage with the bouquets in tow, and picked out Tony’s least ostentatious car for the journey.

It was a tradition that, despite how painful it was, Tony had continued even during the five-years of The Snap. Only back then, he had Happy’s help instead of Peter’s, and there were five bouquets instead of four.

The car journey to the cemetery was always quiet. Tony would drive, negotiating the New York streets – which were usually still busy despite to holiday – with half his attention on the road and the other half on the kid sat in the passenger seat.

When they arrived, they would find the Parker’s automatically. The first year Tony and Peter had done this together, they had quickly arranged the bouquets, one each on the graves of Richard, Mary, Ben and May and left almost immediately; a mixture of Peter not wanting to waste too much of Tony’s time and the pain of seeing his entire family dead before him being too much.

Over the years though, Tony had made sure to make Peter realise that he could take his time. There was no rush. They could stay as long as the kid wanted, all-day even if that was what he needed.

Of course, they never actually did stay all day. It was Christmas after all, and Peter usually got cold pretty fast. Once they returned home, they got into the festive spirit and enjoyed the holiday with their family like everybody else. But their trip to visit the Parker’s always came first.

Peter had come close to insisting they cancel the tradition this year. It would be Abby’s first Christmas, and he wasn’t sure that visiting a graveyard was all that appropriate. Plus, they would have the press to deal with as well, although Tony was quietly confident their security team would be more than capable of handling that aspect, especially considering that a lot of the paparazzi would surely be spending the holiday with their own families – even vultures took vacations, right? Richard, Mary, Ben, May… they were all his family. And they were Abby’s family too. So, after a little gentle persuasion from Tony and some time to think about it, Peter had decided they would go ahead as usual.

“Are you sure you don’t want to grab another coat? Or a scarf or something? It’s only a couple of degrees above freezing out there,” Tony fussed as they readied themselves in the penthouse hallway. Peter was already bundled in at least seven layers, but Tony still worried. Spiders, thermoregulation (or lack thereof), yadda, yadda, yadda.

“I promise, I’m fine, Tony,” the kid smiled softly, doing up the zipper on his coat. “Could you grab Abby’s mittens for me? I doubt they’ll last five minutes before she’s flinging them off, but as least I can say I tried.”

The little girl was sat in her bouncer, wide eyes watching the two men as she waited patiently for them to be ready, and dressed in an adorable pale pink quilted snowsuit. Tony did as he was asked, wrestling the girls squirming fingers into her matching mittens. Peter was right, he would be surprised if the mittens even lasted the car journey. He made a mental note to himself to keep an eye on the articles throughout the morning. New York was already littered with lost socks and pacifiers and the like that Abby had managed to fling out of her stroller without either of the adults noticing during their walks, they didn’t need to add mittens to that list, too.

“Okay. All set?” Tony asked, grabbing Abby under her arms and hauling the little girl up to sit on his hip before grabbing her diaper bag and two of the bouquets with his Iron hand. 

“Yeah, I think so. Let’s get going,” Peter replied, grabbing the other two bouquets.

As usual, the drive was quiet between the two men, although Abby hadn’t gotten that memo and gurgled and cooed happily to herself in the backseat. The first year they had done this, the silence had been mostly due to Peter’s anxiety, which had been rolling off the kid in waves. Although he had no reason to be, he had been nervous and self-conscious to share such an intimate moment with Tony, which the elder man could understand. Now though, the silence was different. Tony had seen every side to Peter and vice versa. There were few secrets between them anymore, no emotions that needed to be hidden. No, the silence now was something different. It was contemplative and thoughtful, and more in memory rather than in mourning.

With school and Spider-Man, and now Abby and the Foundation to occupy his time, Tony knew that Peter’s mind could sometimes be stretched thin. They had discussed, in late-night chats where the topics would often spiral from the best ice cream flavour into something far deeper, about how Peter worried that he didn’t think about his family enough, didn't keep their memory alive enough. But Christmas morning was _for_ them. A time for Peter to openly think about them and remember them without any other distractions.

So, Peter was quiet for the drive, as he remembered his mom and dad, his aunt and uncle, and all the amazing memories they had shared together, plus all the ones they had missed out on. And Tony was quiet too. The tradition had grown to mean almost as much to him as it did to Peter.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in an afterlife. Years ago he would have laughed in the face of anyone that said they did, but now that he knew what he knew, now that he had seen the edges of the galaxy and the end of the world, he couldn’t rule the idea of there being something _more_ out completely. And if there was an afterlife, if the Parkers were sat on some fluffy cloud in the sky watching over them, then Tony hoped they thought he was doing okay. He hoped they were as proud of Peter as Tony was.

Tony pulled into the cemetery’s parking lot, closely followed by the two black SUVs that held their security detail, which proceeded to position themselves to block the entrance. They would move to allow any genuine visitors through, but other than that would act as a barricade to prevent any press from entering the fenced-off area of the cemetery. If any press did decide to tag along, Tony didn’t want their presence to affect any of the other grieving families that might be visiting for the holiday more than absolutely necessary.

The exited the car in mutual silence. Despite the activity, the mood wasn’t sombre, just contemplative, and thoughtful. Tony grabbed Abby again, positioning the girl on his hip once more and grabbing her diaper bag, leaving Peter to handle the flowers this time.

As expected, one mitten was on the floor of the car and the other was almost off, too, hanging onto Abby’s little fist by what must have been sheer determination alone. Tony righted the troublesome accessories, squeezing Abby’s hands into them once more as Peter walked around the car to join them.

The Parkers held a family plot just a short stroll from the parking lot. The four gravestones of Peter’s family stood proudly out of the cold ground, two clearly well-aged, and two just beginning to show the tell-tale signs of the passing of time.

Tony hung back with Abby for a moment while Peter moved forward, placing a bouquet on each of the graves, standing over each one for a moment and resting a hand on the stones as he did so. He stepped back, coming to stand beside Tony, who wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders so that he was holding both of his kids.

“Hey, guys,” Peter began quietly. Another sacred part of the tradition was catching the Parkers up on everything they’d missed. “Hope you’re all okay up there. I brought someone else to see you today. Sorry, it’s taken so long, we’ve had a lot going on, I guess. But this is Abby.” Peter smiled. “She’ll be six months old next month; can you believe that? Now I know what you meant, May, when you always used to say I was growing up too fast,” he chuckled. “She had her first gala a couple of months ago, she was a big hit, obviously. It was for the foundation, which is doing super well, by the way. We’ve already helped dozens of kids and we’re getting more and more applications every day, I think you would have liked it a lot, May…”

They stood there for what Tony estimated was around an hour in the biting chill of the New York December morning while Peter chatted away. Abby had fallen asleep at around the half an hour mark, her cheek, flushed from the cold weather, coming to rest against Tony’s chest, right over where the Arc Reactor used to sit. He rocked her side to side absentmindedly as he listened to Peter catch his family up on all the year’s major events, of which, as always for Peter Parker-Stark, there were many. People came and went, visiting graves around them, but nobody bothered them, or even spared them a glance really, which Tony was thankful for.

“Anyway,” Peter said eventually, “we’ve got the guys coming over later and we still haven’t prepped the _ginormous_ turkey Tony insisted on buying…”

“Hey, don’t badmouth the bird, Parker.”

“…so, we should probably get going.” Peter sighed, looking up to the grey sky above them for a second before turning his gaze back towards the headstones. “I love you guys. And I miss you,” Peter sniffed. “You wanna say anything, Tony?”

He gave Peter’s shoulder a quick squeeze before speaking. He always said something. “Hey everyone, thanks for not smiting me down yet, hopefully, that means your think I’m doing an okay job at raising our kid. I mean, I know he’s become a teen parent,” he playfully nudged Peter, who laughed, “which isn’t exactly at the top of most parents wish list, but just like everything in life, he’s absolutely amazing at it, so I suppose that makes up for it.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, seriously though guys, wish you could be here. Hope you’re looking down on us all. Hope we’re making you proud.”

“I think we are,” Peter whispered, leaning to rest his head on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony kissed his forehead. “Yeah, I think we are, kiddo.”

They walked back to the car, Tony buckling Abby into her car seat with well-practised movements, before beginning their short drive back to the Tower. Tony drove, Abby slept, and Peter chatted away, all the way home.

* * *

“Tony, it won’t fit!”

“Pete, those ovens are state of the art, the best that money can buy; it’ll fit.”

“Sorry, is one of their ‘state of the art’ features automatic expansion? Because, unless it is, this bird won’t fit!”

Tony sighed dramatically, moving from where he had been leaning against the kitchen island, chatting to Bruce, and over to the oven, where Peter was battling what was _apparently_ an exceedingly difficult foe…

The Christmas turkey.

“Let me take a look…” Tony mumbled, snatching the tray holding the unreasonably large turkey that Tony had, of course, insisted on buying, from Peter’s hands.

It was mid-morning, and they would be going hungry if they didn’t manage to get the bird cooking soon.

“Need a hand, Tones?” Rhodey called from the living room, his voice tinged with obvious laughter. The man was laid out on the living room rug, Abby in his outstretched arms as he made aeroplane noises and pretended to make the girl fly above his head. Aeroplane with uncle Rhodey was a rare treat for the girl – considering the man’s crazy work schedule, she didn’t get to see him as much as either Tony, Peter _or_ Rhodey would like – and judging by the uncontrollable childish giggles emitting from the girl, she was enjoying the playtime thoroughly.

“Need I remind you I invented time travel?” Tony called back, his head half-way in the oven. “I think I can just about manage Christmas dinner, Platypus.”

“Couldn’t manage unbuttoning your own pants that one time in Amsterdam…” Peter heard Happy mumble under his breath from where he was nursing a beer on the living room couch.

Bruce and Tony both turned to give Peter looks of confusion when he snorted, but he refused to explain, simply shaking his head until the two men turned their attention back to the turkey before sending Happy a conspiratorial glance.

It was an all-boys Christmas – Abby being the exception, of course – with Pepper out of town visiting her parents for the holidays. The guys had come over shortly after Tony, Peter and Abby had returned from visiting the Parkers. Gifts were exchanged (Abby, naturally, was spoilt rotten), beers were opened, laughs were shared… until someone sensible – probably Rhodey, but Peter had been changing a diaper so couldn’t be totally sure – had insisted that they’d better start cooking if they wanted to eat before New Year’s Eve.

“Ha!” Tony exclaimed, having finally carved off enough of the turkey’s meat to get it to fit in the oven. At least they wouldn’t be going hungry, although the bird had lost almost all of its dignity along the way.

Despite it being Abby’s first Christmas – not that the girl was old enough to truly appreciate the holiday, although she was loving all the extra attention – it was normal. Almost boring really, Peter thought.

They spent the day eating – and in the case of Rhodey, Bruce and Happy, drinking – way too much, playing stupid games that only ever got played at Christmas – hello, charades, we’re looking at you – and watching the Christmas specials on the TV – Happy shushed everyone into silence during the Downton Abbey special as he watched with rapt concentration.

It was perfect.

It had been _such_ a crazy year for Peter. Was it really only a year ago that he had found out he was going to be a father? Wow. So much had changed since then.

His year had been so _full_. Full of drama, and anxiety, and difficult decisions, but also full of unprecedented joy and happiness. In many ways, it had been the best year of his life. Peter always felt guilty whenever those kinds of thoughts crept up on him; guilty that he was so happy when he had so many reasons to be sad. But he couldn’t help it. Abby was just an incredible beacon of light in his life, the best thing to ever happen to him, and he refused to feel guilty for that.

Yeah, the past year had been a crazy one. It was nice to have just a normal, boring Christmas with some of his favourite people.

His favourite people who now, hours after Christmas dinner had finally been served and eaten, with the exception of Tony, were passed out over various pieces of furniture in the living room displaying the numerous stages of a food coma. Peter laughed quietly as he surveyed the scene from his position standing by the ornate Christmas tree by the fireplace, Abby perched on his hip happily. The little girl had a fascination with the twinkling fairy lights that adorned the tree, and Peter was happy to stand for a few minutes before the girl’s bedtime to allow her time to enjoy her infatuation.

When Abby’s blinks began to get closer together and longer in length, Peter decided it was definitely bedtime.

He grabbed the little girl’s fist – which had been reaching for the Thor themed Christmas ornament Tony had bought as a joke the previous year, and which now had pride of place within the mix of decorations – bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there as he moved the pair of them away from the tree.

The room was dimly lit, only the lights from the Christmas tree and the TV lighting up the darkness, giving the evening a peaceful atmosphere from the warm glow.

Peter made his way around the room, rousing each of its occupants in turn so that they could say goodnight to Abby, as per their demands from earlier in the evening.

Happy was first, the man waking from his dozing state suddenly and with a snore, looking around the room with half-lidded eyes before remembering where he was and what was happening. Abby giggled at the noise, kicking her feet happily with all the enthusiasm a little girl who was fighting to stay away could muster. Happy, probably still a little tipsy from his earlier beers, grabbed one of the kicking feet, pulling the tiny sock that was still hanging on by some miracle off before pretending to gobble up Abby’s barefoot like the big bad wolf of the story he loved to read to the girl. Abby squirmed and giggled, pressing herself even further into Peter’s side as she attempted to escape. After a moment, the wolf’s appetite apparently satisfied, Happy let go of the foot, smiling as Peter bent until Abby was in reach, allowing the man to lean forward and give her cheek a soft kiss, whispering “night, kid” as he did so. Happy leant back into the sofa, eyes already drifting shut again, and Peter made a mental note to double-check his room was soundproofed after he’d put Abby to bed, just in case Happy decided to spend the night – the man’s snoring, once he got himself into a deep sleep, was legendary.

Bruce was next, the scientist standing from where he’d been lounging on the plush living room rug, his back against the seat of the couch, as Peter tiptoed over to him. The floor surrounding the man was covered in torn pieces of paper, each with almost illegible scribbles on them, the consequence of Bruce’s brain working on ideas too quickly for his handwriting to keep up with. The scientists brilliant mind refused to take a day off, even for Christmas, it seemed. Abby’s head was resting comfortably against Peter’s shoulders, her blinks getting closer and closer together, as they approached Bruce, though she still found the energy to reach out a grabby hand towards the man. It filled Peter’s heart to watch his daughter interact with their family; knowing that she could now recognise them all, and even better, was usually glad to see them, filled Peter’s chest with an emotion that, until Abby had come along, he hadn’t been all too familiar with. He was pretty sure it was pride.

Now that he was stood, Bruce reached out for Abby as well, his huge hand engulfing Abby’s tiny one as the scientist shook the little girl’s hand like a CEO leaving a business meeting. Peter chuckled softly and Bruce smiled indulgently, before whispering a sweet “goodnight” to the girl.

Rhodey stood from the armchair he had claimed for the evening as Peter made to turn towards him.

“Mind if I help you with bedtime?” the man asked, his soft tone matching the tranquil mood that the evening had taken on. “Grandpa Tony and his retired ass gets to do this every day, but uncle Rhodey has to miss out,” he continued, although there was no heat behind his words.

“Yeah, of course,” Peter smiled, turning and leading Rhodey down the hallway towards his room. “I’d better warn you though, Tony’s probably already in there checking that the brightness level on the nightlight is just right, or something equally ridiculous, so you’ll probably have to share.”

“Of course he is,” Rhodey chuckled, rolling his eyes.

Lo and behold, when the reached Peter’s room they were greeted by the sight of Tony, who was putting away Abby and Peter’s freshly dry-cleaned clothes into the chest of drawers and closet like a true suburban housewife. Peter noted that the man had also picked out Abby’s sleep outfit; a pale beige onesie with teddy-bear paws embroidered onto the feet and a matching sleep sack that he’d hung over the railings of Abby’s crib.

“Thought we might find you in here,” Peter greeted mischievously, earning him a two-fingered gesture from Tony, who had obviously been within hearing distance of Peter’s comment to Rhodey, as he folded a couple of muslin cloths.

Peter passed Abby to Rhodey so that the man could set about getting her changed and ready for bed, and the three men fell into a companionable silence as they all helped along Abby’s nighttime routine. 

A short while later, Abby was finally down in her crib, almost asleep but not quite. Peter and Tony were sprawled out on Peter’s bed, both resting their backs against the headboard, relaxing in the evening atmosphere and equally tired from their early morning and busy day. Rhodey sat in the nursing chair by the side of the bed, his feet comfortably placed on the matching footstool as he began to read Abby’s bedtime story to the room.

Peter loved this part of the day. He loved watching Abby fight to keep her little eyes open and always eventually losing, succumbing to the lure of sleep. And he loved watching her sleep, loved counting her breaths and concentrating on her heartbeat; a subtle but constant celebration that she was alive and she was _his_.

Rhodey was almost half-way through the story – Peter knew because of the countless time’s he had read the same tale to Abby – when Peter heard Tony’s breathing change subtly, becoming slow and steady. Sure enough, when Peter glanced to the side, he could see that the elder man had dozed off, his head lolling to the side in a way that Peter knew he would live to regret come the morning.

Peter shuffled down the bed a little until his head was almost resting on the pillow, closing his own eyes and listening to Rhodey’s gentle voice, to Tony’s breathing, to Abby’s heartbeat.

And if Rhodey finished the story a few moments later, leaving the room quietly as all three of the Stark’s slept on soundly, with a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest, then no one else needed to know.

* * *

One week later, Peter stood on the penthouse balcony wrapped in – thanks to Tony’s insistence – three sweatshirts and a thick winter coat, ready to watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks over the New York City skyline. Tony stood beside him, smothered in his own winter layers, and a cup of hot cocoa clutched in his Iron Hand. Abby, cuddled safely in Peter’s arms, was wrapped in her fluffy blanket, specially designed baby ear defenders – which she was tolerating remarkably well, much to Peter’s surprise – already atop her head ready for the show to start.

They didn’t have to wait long. After only a few minutes, Peter heard the countdowns on the streets below begin, and he just had enough time to check that Abby’s ear defenders were secure before the first firework was lighting up the sky.

“Happy New Year, Pete,” Tony whispered, pulling him close against his side and planting a firm kiss on his temple, before leaning down to bestow the same treatment upon Abby.

Peter leant into the touch, allowing Tony’s arms to engulf him. “Happy New Year, Tony.” He leant forward, pressing a kiss to Abby’s increasingly unruly chestnut curls as the girl gazed up at the sky, giggling quietly to herself and clapping her bemittened hands clumsily every time one of the fireworks exploded. “Happy New Year, baby.”

They stayed on the balcony until the last of the fireworks had finished, kept company only by the cool evening breeze.

It was way past Abby’s bedtime, but the little girl was showing no signs of tiredness; her bright eyes were wide as they blinked at the sparkling city lights, occasionally gazing up at the stars as though she were comparing the two. The fireworks may have been over, but it looked like, for Abby at least, the stars were acting as perfectly acceptable understudies.

There was a time, what felt like long ago now, that Peter would have gazed up at the stars with almost the same level of wonder and awe that his baby girl was. Now, he could hardly bring himself to look. Titan and Thanos and… the dusting… Now, when he looked at the stars, he saw them for what they really were; dead balls of light floating in the abyss. Alone. 

And, he knew what that felt like.

Yeah. The stars weren’t the same anymore. 

But seeing the open awe in Abby’s eyes made Peter hopeful that he wouldn’t always feel that way about the stars. Here, engulfed in the warm company of Tony and his daughter, starting a new year with them by his side, Peter could almost forget that he had ever even been to space, that he had felt the crushing weight and indescribable cold of nothingness.

The warm weight of his daughter in his arms, the subtle thrumming of Tony’s pulse which reverbed its way through Peter’s body from where the elder man was resting his arm on Peter’s shoulder… These little things were enough to ground Peter, to remind him that he wasn’t on Titan, he wasn’t dust, he had made it out alive and he wasn’t alone.

He was safe. He was loved. And he had so much to look forward to.

Abby had already changed his life in so many indescribable ways. Maybe, in time, and with his daughter and Tony by his side, Peter could learn to love the stars again…


	8. January - Strawberries on the Ceiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, Abs,” Peter began, holding the baby spoon aloft but not actually moving it anywhere. He turned to Tony. “Um, do you think I should taste it first, to show her it’s good? I’ve seen dads on parenting vlogs do that before. Or, should I aeroplane it, you think?”  
> Oh, how Tony wanted to crack a joke. Weeks of planning by Peter had gone into this moment and now the kid was floundering at the final hurdle. He loved him, but that didn’t make the moment any less funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there. Yes, it's me. The bitch they call Emma who seriously needs to get better at time management...
> 
> So sorry that this is coming to you a day late. The delay was due to a mixture of me not having the chapter ready (thank you writer's block) and the fact that I just really wasn't in the mood to write or edit yesterday. It was announced yesterday that we're going into a second lockdown where I live, which is just so depressing, and honestly I was just feeling a bit sorry for myself last night. (Note: I am in total and complete support of doing whatever's necessary to stop this terrible virus; way too many lives and livelihoods have already been lost because of it and I don't want to see anymore, but that doesn't make the reality of another lockdown any easier :((( )
> 
> ANYWAY! Let's all distract ourselves from the slowest apocalypse ever with some tooth rotting fluff, shall we? This chapter was a total bitch to write, but I hope my pain and suffering has turned into something you might like. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Okay, so what do you think we should start with?” Peter asked, gesturing to the worktop of the kitchen island, which was almost completely covered in small jars of baby food, with a thoughtful look furrowing his brow that Tony was sure shouldn’t have been so cute.

“Pete, you’re the one that bought half the store, you know these flavours better than me,” Tony replied with playfully exaggerated exasperation. He had been sitting on one of counter’s bar stools for the last half an hour watching Peter unpack what appeared to be the entire baby isle of whichever grocery store he’d dragged Abby and his security team to that afternoon. Tony could only _imagine_ the look on the other shoppers faces as they watched _the_ Peter Parker-Stark deliberate between apple and apricot mush.

“A gross exaggeration but I‘ll let it slide. Which flavour do you think she’d like best?” Peter pondered, absentmindedly stroking his fingers through Abby’s chestnut curls as she sat in her high chair, chewing on a soft plastic spoon gripped tightly in her little fist.

“Well, she regularly tries to chew on my hair, got that flavour?”

Peter glared in a way that Tony supposed was intended to be menacing. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

Tony only just managed to suppress a chuckle, disguising it with clearing this throat instead. “Sorry, Pete. Read me some of the options.”

“Okay,” Peter replied enthusiastically, glad that Tony was finally showing a genuine interest.

It wasn’t that Tony _wasn’t_ interested; of course, he was. He was obsessed with everything and anything to do with either of his kids. It was just that he’d had to listen to Peter go back and forth with himself constantly for two weeks about whether or not Abby was ready to start trying solid foods, ever since the girl had shown a keen interest in Tony’s mashed potatoes on Christmas day.

It was, honest to God, all the kid would talk about.

So, excuse him if the novelty of the idea had kind of worn off.

“So, we’ve got mango…”

“Exotic.”

“Pureed peas…”

“Boring. And too green.”

“Macaroni and cheese…”

“They make a pureed version of that? Gross.”

“Strawberry yoghurt…”

“Hmm,” Tony considered. “That could be a winner. Who doesn’t like strawberries?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Peter agreed, pulling the pouch of strawberry yoghurt out of the lineup. “Sorry, little bug, I’m going to need that back,” Peter said, stealing the spoon from Abby’s hands before the girl had the chance to realise what was happening and use her sneaky powers to stick to the utensil, much to the little girl’s disgust.

“Mmmm,” Abby whined, waving her chubby fists in protest.

At six months old, the girl’s personality was beginning to shine through more and more with every passing day, and neither Tony nor Peter could ever get enough. Not for the first time, as he watched Peter uncap the squeezy yoghurt pouch and deposit a pea-sized amount onto the spoon, Tony found himself thanking his lucky stars that he had managed to survive long enough (against the odds, let’s be honest) to be a part of this precious little girl’s milestones.

The noises Abby was making had really only begun a few days ago. Abby had never really been a particularly vocal baby – first month and uncontrollable crying due to dialled-up baby senses aside – although did crying class as vocal? Tony wasn’t sure…

But anyway.

Of course, Abby had always done that weird little gurgling thing that all babies did, but over the past couple of days, those gurgles had begun to turn into actual, fully-fledged noises. Which was exciting. And also terrifying, as it meant the girl was one step closer to talking and, if she took after her dad, Tony was willing to bet that once the little girl started talking, they’d struggle to ever get her to be quiet again.

(It should be noted that Peter’s chatty tendencies were one of the things Tony loved most about the kid, but he played the grumpy parent so well, he wasn’t about to let him know that.)

So, yeah. Abby’s newfound love of little noises meant that Tony had resigned himself to the fact that in a few short weeks, or maybe months, he would have _two_ chatty Spider-Babies to try to make sense of… and he _genuinely_ couldn’t wait.

But, Abby needed to survive to make it that far. And, to do that she needed to start eating solid foods. (Did food count as solid if it was pureed within an inch of its life? That was a conundrum for another day, Tony supposed.)

“Okay, Abs,” Peter began, holding the baby spoon aloft but not actually moving it anywhere. He turned to Tony. “Um, do you think I should taste it first, to show her it’s good? I’ve seen dads on parenting vlogs do that before. Or, should I aeroplane it, you think?”

Oh, how Tony wanted to crack a joke. Weeks of planning by Peter had gone into this moment and now the kid was floundering at the final hurdle. He loved him, but that didn’t make the moment any less funny.

But, Tony could see the genuine uncertainty in the kid’s eyes – this was yet another milestone that so many other parents would be negotiating with a partner by their side, and once again, like everything in Abby’s life, Peter was having to go it alone.

No. Not alone.

Tony was there.

“Didn’t one of those forums Fri pulled up for us say something about putting a little on the tray for her to try first? That might be a good route to try before we move onto the persuasion techniques,” Tony offered, smiling, and moving so that he was no longer sitting at the other end of the island, but rather on the stool on the other side of Abby, ready to assist in any way he could.

“Okay, okay.”

Peter squeezed a little more of the pale pink yoghurt onto the spoon unnecessarily before tapping it against the plastic tray that was attached to the high chair, depositing the food onto the easily wipable surface – thank God – well within Abby’s reach.

Tony found himself mirroring Peter’s body posture, both men leaning forward slightly, eagerly watching Abby’s reaction to the new substance.

Abby looked towards the pale pink goo, pushing herself forwards until she was straining against the straps of the high chair that confined her, and using a single chubby finger to poke at the yoghurt inquisitively with inadvertent gentleness. Before…

_SPLAT!_

The little girl lifted her arm in the air, bringing her hand down flat on top of the yoghurt like she had done to her bath water to make splashes so many times before. The yoghurt flew in every direction, covering Abby’s bib, with some managing to get on her dinosaur-themed leggings.

Tony and Peter didn’t escape either. Both men were in the splatter-zone, their shirts now ruined with strawberry Jackson Pollock-esque splotches covering the fabric.

Tony stared at Peter and Peter stared at Tony, both looking completely dumbfounded.

And then Tony was laughing. Not just a soft chuckle, but full-on belly-laughs that shook the man’s whole frame and made the corner of his eyes crinkle.

Peter watched as a dollop of yoghurt that had been sitting precariously atop Tony’s eyebrow plopped unceremoniously onto the man’s cheek, disturbed by his cackling, and then Peter was laughing too, wiping yoghurt from his own face and flicking it across the island at Tony.

Abby glanced between the two men innocently, seemingly confused at what was happening but loving it regardless. As her daddy and grandpa laughed, the little girl clapped her messy hands and joined in, her youthful giggle filling up the room.

The little girl’s laughter was such a boost of serotonin for Tony that, even once the initial shock of the incident had worn off, he continued to pretend to laugh, just to keep the little girl that was at the centre of his and Peter’s universe laughing that little bit longer.

Finally, once everybody’s laughter had died down, the rooms attention turned back towards the yoghurt on the little girl’s tray (ignoring the yoghurt that was now decorating the walls, ceiling and most of the appliances. Who knew babies had such destructive power hiding in those tiny little hands?).

Abby looked at her hand again, still covered in the sticky substance, before popping the limb in her mouth with the type of inquisitiveness that only babies, who explored everything through their mouths, no matter how gross that was, could possess.

The little girl’s eyes went wide as she tasted something that wasn’t baby formula for the first time, glancing from Tony to Peter and back again comically as she continued to suck the strawberry flavoured substance from her hand.

“Do you think that’s a sign she likes it?” Peter chuckled, turning to Tony with eyes full of warmth and pride.

Abby took her now spit-covered hand and wiped up more of the yoghurt from her tray, shoving the first back into her mouth for a clumsy second taste.

“I’d say that’s a definite yes,” Tony replied, matching Peter’s glowing expression. “You’re getting all of this, right F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“ _Yes, Boss_ ,” The AI answered. “ _Filed away under ‘Abby’s firsts’._ ”

“Thanks, girl.”

And so what if the two men spent the next hour decanting small amounts of pureed food onto Abby’s highchair tray for the girl to try? They could remove the splatters from the ceiling later.

* * *

A little later, after a bath for Abby and a shower for both Tony and Peter, the little family found themselves in the penthouse living room, ready for playtime.

Abby seemed to be feeling particularly lively from the combination of a sugar rush from the yoghurt and her impromptu bath time, so Tony decided to pull out the big guns; The Activity Cube.

The Activity Cube had been a gift from Pepper just last week, for no particular reason other than the fact that everybody in Abby’s life loved to spoil her. It had it all. On the surface, the toy appeared to be a simple wooden box with a few holes in, but oh no, The Activity Cube was so much more, and thus, had quickly become one of Abby’s favourites to play with.

On closer inspection, The Activity Cube wasn’t a box at all, but rather a cute, simplified version of an ark. The top of the ark was decorated with holes of various shapes; square, circle, triangle, all with a corresponding wooden block of the same shape that the baby was supposed to sort, match and push through the hole. The sides of the ark were decorated with sweet pastel animals, all in pairs, of course, that once again matched with wooden animal figurines that also came with the toy.

Abby _loved_ playing with those simple wooden blocks. And Peter and Tony loved to watch her.

It was strange. Years ago, Tony’s mind needed to be constantly stimulated. He had the attention span of a goldfish on a good day, and he’d never been backwards in coming forwards when it came to letting those around him know that they bored him. And yet, here he was, setting up a simple wooden box and it’s matching blocks, happy and content to watch his sixth-month-old granddaughter try and figure out why the triangle wouldn’t fit in the square hole.

He decided he liked this pace of life much more than the previous.

They settled, Peter and Tony both sitting crosslegged on the plush living room carpet with Abby and The Activity Cube in between them. The position wasn’t the most comfortable for the elder man – your mid-fifties are cruel – but he wanted to be close to the action.

Abby had grown so much over the past few weeks and months, and could now sit up mostly unassisted. Tony and Peter stayed close though, happy for the girl to push her newfound skills but all too aware that when she started to tire, she would start to pitch and lean and more than likely need catching before she fell over altogether.

Peter relaxed with his back against the sofa as Tony set about releasing the shapes and animals from their wooden prison, placing them on the floor within Abby’s reach.

“Righto, squirt,” Tony began, leaning forward towards the little girl, “I know you think you’re an expert at this already, but we’ve still got work to do, okay? So, this is a cube,” he continued, picking up the orange cube first and pressing it into Abby’s grasping hand, “and we’ve gotta find which hole it belongs in – no, Abs, it’s not food, don’t stick it in your mouth, good girl…” Peter was too busy laughing at Tony’s plight to help pry the wooden block out of the inquisitive baby’s mouth.

“Okay, let’s try that again, honey.” With the block now back in his possession – albeit, a little more slobbery than it had been – Tony gave it a quick wipe on his jeans before pressing it back in Abby’s fist, being careful to guide the girl’s hand away every time she made to move it towards her mouth again.

They spent the next half an hour or so like that, Abby enjoying playing with her toy; banging the wooden blocks together or against the ark, throwing them down onto the rug with poorly placed precision, using her fledgeling spidey-powers to stick the wooden animals to her hand, and then waving them around as she laughed at her own antics. One of the blocks, the circular one, actually made it through its corresponding hole and into the ark, much to Peter and Tony’s excitement. They clapped and cheered enthusiastically at Abby’s achievement, the little girl flapping her arms in joy at the reaction.

It was getting on towards dinnertime when F.R.I.D.A.Y. came over the penthouse speakers.

“ _Boss, Miss Potts is requesting access to the penthouse. She has her new assistant, Miss Lindsey, with her and is enquiring as to whether she can bring the young woman with her.”_

“Has she been security cleared and signed all of the appropriate NDA’s, Fri?” Tony didn’t know why he bothered asking. He knew Pepper was thorough when it came to things like that, but he wanted the reassurance himself. He wouldn’t normally allow SI employees up into the penthouse, especially when Abby was around; this part of the building was supposed to be a sanctuary for him and his family, a place where they could be one-hundred-per cent themselves without the pressure of prying eyes. But, Pepper’s last assistant, Michael, had played a very active role within the Tower, being the CEO’s assistant and all, and had often run errands for the woman that occasionally involved requiring access to the penthouse. It followed that now Michael had moved on to pastures new and had been replaced with Miss Lindsey, the woman would need the same level of access. People coming and going from your home was an unfortunate side effect of owning a multi-billion dollar company and living on site.

“ _Yes, Boss_ ,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered.

“It cool with you if they pop up, Pete?”

“Yeah,” the kid shrugged, passing Abby a block that had fallen out of her reach absentmindedly, “it’s about time for Abby’s next bottle anyway, so I can just do that whilst you and Pepper do whatever you need to do.”

“You heard the kid, send them up, Fri.”

Peter busied himself tidying the toys away as they waited for the two ladies to arrive, before moving to the open plan kitchen to start the bottle and milk prep for Abby. Tony observed, keeping the little girl entertained by allowing her to play with the fingers on his Iron Arm as she sat perched on his hip.

“Tony?” he heard Pepper call from the hallway a couple of moments later.

“Kitchen!”

The click-clacking of two pairs of stilettos filtered in from the hallway as the two women made their way. Abby grumbled a little at the noise, her little ears still sensitive to loud or irritating noises. Pepper ordinarily removed her signature shoes whenever she visited the penthouse, but that was usually when she was alone. Tony knew it would be a little awkward to try and explain away Abby’s sensitive senses without revealing far too much about Peter and Abby’s extra abilities, which was likely why the woman hadn’t removed her shoes this time. Tony decided he would explain away Abby’s irritation by blaming it on her hunger if the subject came up.

“Hi, gentlemen,” Pepper greeted with a smile as she entered the kitchen, receiving a quick hello in return from Peter as she moved to Tony to kiss his cheek. “Hello, Abigail.” The little girl grinned, reaching out with grabby hands towards her favourite auntie. Despite being dressed impeccably – as usual – in a slate grey matching two-piece, Pepper reached out for the girl, taking her into her arms. “Just one quick cuddle, okay sweetie?”

The woman that entered behind Pepper stood silently as the rooms other occupants greeted one another. She was pretty, Tony thought to himself as he spared her a glance, with dark brown hair that she had tied into a neat and professional bun, and a dark navy suit that wasn’t tailored, unlike Peppers, but clearly wasn’t off-the-rail either. She was young, probably only a couple of years older than Peter, and grasped a StarkPad in her hands, glancing down occasionally as silent notifications came through. Although she was silent, her eyes were wide with awe, whether it was due to the expensive décor or the fact that she was in the same room as Tony Stark and Peter Parker-Stark, not to mention Abby, who by this point, thanks to Peter’s work on social media, was a celebrity in her own right, Tony wasn’t sure.

“Tony, Peter, I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Chelsy Lindsey,” Pepper said, nodding her head towards the younger woman.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Chelsy replied politely, nodding her head towards the two men, her eyes lingering on Peter, who had just finished pouring warm milk into Abby’s bottle, for a couple seconds longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, Chelsy.”

“Tony, I wanted to see if you’d had the chance to look over those proposals for SI’s new green energy project?” Pepper asked, getting down to business as she handed Abby over to Peter so that the father could feed the girl her dinner. He set himself up on one of the kitchen island stools, cradling Abby as she latched onto the bottle.

“Yeah, I just had a couple hundred suggestions,” Tony teased. “I think I left the notes in my office if you want to go over them now?”

“So long as you’re not busy?” Pepper checked, eyes glancing towards Abby and Peter.

“You don’t mind, do you, Pete?”

“Nah, we’re good here, Tony,” Peter smiled.

“Chelsy,” Pepper said, “would you mind waiting here with Peter and Abby for a few minutes? There are a couple of items in these files that are classified.”

“Of course, Miss Potts, unless Mr Parker-Stark would prefer I went back downstairs?” Chelsy answered.

Unsurprisingly to Tony, Peter shook his head. “No need for that, Chelsy, you’re welcome to hang out here while the old people talk,” Peter snarked, earning himself a playfully indignant noise from Pepper. Tony could see that Chelsy was trying not to smile, probably worried about offending her new boss. “Come and have a seat,” Peter offered friendlily, “and please, call me Peter.”

Chelsy scooted past Tony and Pepper to take the offered seat somewhat awkwardly, looking up at Peter from under her long dark lashes. 

“Back soon, kid,” Tony called to Peter as he and Pepper left the room and headed towards the office.

His discussion with Pepper over SI’s latest plans for their new green energy project didn’t take as long as Tony expected. Thankfully, Pepper had noticed a lot of the pitfalls of the project that Tony picked up on herself, so they managed to get on the same page with regards to changes and amendments that needed to be made for the project to be a success in record time.

With the alterations finalised, the two of them made their way back to the kitchen. Peter and Chelsy were exactly where they’d left them, chatting away amicably, although there was a slight awkwardness in the air, Tony thought. Abby had finished her bottle and was now sleeping soundly in Peter’s arms, her head resting against his chest and moving with the rise and fall of her father’s breathing.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting so long,” Pepper apologised as they re-entered.

After a couple more minutes of idle chit chat between the four adults, Pepper and her new assistant took their leave, Chelsy shooting Peter a look just before she followed Pepper down the hallway.

 _What was_ that _about?_ Tony found himself wondering.

Peter let out a long breath once the doors to the elevator had closed, wiping a hand across his face like a weary old man.

“You okay, kid?” Tony asked, sliding into the seat on Peter’s right, concern lacing his voice. He hadn’t thought Peter would mind being left with Chelsy for a little while, but maybe he’d been wrong? “Do I need to have Pepper fire her new assistant?” he asked, only partially joking.

Peter let out a short sharp breath that Tony was sure was supposed to be a laugh. “No, no,” Peter replied, “she, uh, she was nice.”

“So, why do you look like a man who just escaped a date with the gallows?”

“I, um,” Peter cleared his throat, “I think she was trying to, uh, flirt with me?”

“Oh, the horror,” Tony joked, before noticing Peter’s uncomfortable expression. “Hey,” the elder man continued, his tone turning gentle, bringing a hand up to rest on Peter’s shoulder, “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it, Pete. She was probably just trying her luck; not every day you get to spend one-on-one time with a celebrity.”

Peter grimaced at the word ‘celebrity’, still not used to the fact that that was what he _was_ now.

“No, it, um, it was fine. She was nice. It was just, I don’t know, a bit strange?”

“Hey, if you’re not into someone, that’s okay, you know that right? You don’t owe her anything.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Peter said, offering Tony a small smile. “It was just weird, I guess,” he sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I just wasn’t expecting it,” he finally settled on.

“It’s been a while since you’ve spent any time with someone close to your age, to be fair, Pete,” Tony said understandingly. “You have to hang out with us oldies all the time, which I know isn’t ideal…”

“I love hanging out with you and everybody though! And I get to meet people my age through the foundation.”

“I know you do, Pete, but I also know it’s not the same.” Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder as resigned understanding dawned on the kid’s face.

“It just caught me off guard,” the kid said, quietly now, looking down at Abby as she rested in his arms. “I – I haven’t had anyone _flirt_ with me since… since MJ,” he forced the name through his teeth. Tony knew he tried not to think of the girl. “And her style of flirting wasn’t exactly traditional,” Peter laughed humourlessly. “I just don’t think I’m ready for anything like that yet; dating and girlfriends and everything, you know? Is that… do you think that’s okay?” He looked up at Tony, so young and so vulnerable.

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling his kid close. “ _Of course_ , that’s okay, Pete,” he assured, kissing Peter’s temple. “You’ve been through some shit, kid. You take things at whatever pace feels good for you, okay? Flirt, don flirt. Date, don’t date. But don’t let anyone pressure you either way. You have to do what feels right for you and if it doesn’t feel right, then that’s okay, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered, leaning into Tony’s chest the best he could whilst also keeping Abby comfortable.

It was so easy to forget that Peter was just a _kid_. A father, yes. The patron of a charitable foundation, yes. A celebrity, yes. But still just a kid. A kid who had been through so much, and who somehow managed to do such a good job at hiding his residual trauma from those experiences…

But, it had only been a year since Peter had discovered he was going to become a teen father.

It had only been six months since his first love abandoned him at the hospital with their newborn daughter, not even bothering to leave a forwarding address or to get in contact since even if it was just to let them know she was okay.

It had only been five months since he had been flung into the spotlight thanks to his association with Tony.

His kid was so strong, it was so easy to forget all those things. But, even the strongest people need to be reminded that everything was okay from time to time. 

“You’re doing great, Pete,” Tony whispered into his curls, knowing the boy would hear him. “There’s nothing wrong with not being ready. You’re okay.”

He felt Peter take a deep breath, nodding his head against Tony’s chest.

“I’ve got you.”


	9. February - College Blues and Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watched the exchange with a smile on his face. He had a feeling this weekend was going to be really good for Peter. Even though Abby had been the best thing to happen to either of them, Tony knew that Peter was missing out on a lot of things kids his age got to experience. Spending the weekend staying with Ned in the dorms of CalTech whilst Tony and Abby shared some quality time at the Malibu mansion would hopefully give the kid the well-deserved break he didn’t even know he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to actually upload on schedule for once...  
> IT'S ME, BITCH!   
> Happy Saturday, and a VERY happy Biden/Harris day! Please feel free to join me in breathing a collective sigh of relief at today's events! 😅 
> 
> Anyway!   
> As always, thank you so so much for your continued support on this fic and the absolutely phenomenal comments you guys leave me. I literally squeal with glee every time I read them and they genuinely do mean the world to me ❤️  
> Thank you also to those of you that offered me some comfort about going into a second lockdown! I'm happy to say that I'm feeling much better about it now the initial sadness and disappointment has worn off, and your comments definitely helped with that, so thank you! 
> 
> Now, onto this weeks chapter!   
> This was edited at 1am after a couple of beveraginos, so if you see any mistakes, do as Jamie Foxx would do and 🎵 blame it on the alcohol 🎵
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and please enjoy!

“Dude!”

“Dude!” Peter screamed in reply, dropping his bag on the floor at Tony’s feet with a thump and sprinting across the parking lot to his best friend. The best friend he hadn’t seen in person in _months_ , thanks to Ned’s family visiting him for the holidays rather than the kid travelling back to the East Coast.

The two collided, Peter forgetting himself for a moment as he lifted Ned into the air and swung the boy in a circle.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Ned yelled, shaking Peter’s shoulders once his feet were safely back on Tera Firma.

“I know! I’ve missed you so much, man. New York’s not the same without you!”

Tony watched the exchange with a smile on his face. He had a feeling this weekend was going to be really good for Peter. Even though Abby had been the best thing to happen to either of them, Tony knew that Peter was missing out on a lot of things kids his age got to experience. Spending the weekend staying with Ned in the dorms of CalTech whilst Tony and Abby shared some quality time at the Malibu mansion would hopefully give the kid the well-deserved break he didn’t even know he needed.

Tony shifted Abby’s weight in his left arm and used his Iron one to grab Peter’s overnight bag from the floor – mumbling a half-hearted dig about how he was always having to clear up after his kids – before making his way over to the two boys.

“How’s it going, Fred?” Tony greeted as he approached.

“Pretty good thanks, Mr Stark! Hey, Abby!” Ned said excitedly, grabbing one of Abby’s fists, kissing it demurely and then proceeding to give a weird little courtesy as though he were greeting the Queen Of England, causing the girl to let out a little giggle at his antics. “Man, she’s so big now! Video call doesn’t do her justice, she’s like a fully formed little human!”

“That is the general idea, Ned,” Peter laughed, grabbing his bag from Tony.

Tony could see they were beginning to attract some attention from the rest of the students milling around the parking lot of the dorms, and could practically feel their security detail beginning to get twitchy as they noticed as well. That felt like the cue for he and Abby to skedaddle.

“Okay, kid,” Tony began, turning to Peter, “you sure you’ve got everything?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Toothbrush?”

“Yeah.”

“Pyjamas?”

“Yes, Tony.”

“Phone charger?”

“Yessssssss!”

“The knowledge that my love for you is endless and unwavering?”

Peter blushed but laughed. “Always, of course.”

“Super, then I think you’re set,” Tony smiled. “Kiss for me,” he said, grabbing Peter by the back of the neck and pulling him in to plant a kiss on top of his head, “and a kiss for little-miss,” Tony continued, holding Abby up for Peter to plant a sloppy kiss on the little girl’s cheek, causing her to squirm happily in Tony’s arms.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Peter asked for the millionth time. Tony couldn’t blame him. This was going to be the first time he would be spending any significant time away from Abby since the girl had been born. It was a big deal. But Peter was still a kid himself, and he deserved a little time off to spend with his best friend. Plus, it wasn’t like Tony hadn’t looked after Abby alone hundreds of times before when Peter was out Spider-Manning, this would just be the special edition extended version of that.

Honestly, Tony was looking forward to some one-on-one time with the girl. He and Peter had taken her down to the mansion’s private beach the day before and she had loved helping build and destroy sandcastles and having the waves tickle her toes as Tony or Peter held her in the shallows. Tony had a jam-packed itinerary of things he and his grandbaby could get up to that weekend, and then even more planned for when Peter rejoined them for a little vacation in a couple of days time.

“We’ll be fine, right Abs?” Tony assured, bouncing the girl up and down a couple of times for effect. “Just have fun, okay? Stay in the grey area, don’t get too drunk, and for the love of God, if you bring a girl back to the dorms, _please_ be careful…”

“Tony!”

“I’m just saying…”

“Well, just don’t!”

“Honestly, after everything that’s happened I think he’s probably been put off sex for life,” Ned mumbled, trying not to laugh.

“Ned!”

“Hey, I know better than most that there’s plenty of fun to be had before you get to funky town, I’m just saying if you _do_ get there…”

“Tony, aren’t you leaving? Didn’t you say you were leaving? I think it’s time you left,” Peter said, his voice at least two octaves higher than it had been before, as he pushed Tony back towards the awaiting car they had arrived in.

“Okay, okay,” Tony relented, allowing himself to be manhandled into the car, barely having time to fasten Abby’s car seat before Peter was slamming the door shut behind him. The driver started the engine, allowing Tony to roll his window down and yell, “bye Petey! Love you!” across the asphalt. If you were going to embarrass your kid, you had to do a thorough job right?

The look on Peter’s face kept Tony chuckling to himself for the entire ride to the Malibu house.

* * *

“Oh, man, he is _so_ embarrassing sometimes,” Peter moaned, flopping face-first down onto Ned’s bed. After Tony’s ridiculously humiliating farewell, the two boys had wasted no time in heading inside to Ned’s dorm room.

“If Tony Stark was my dad, I’d want him to embarrass me everyday… twice a day if he felt like it,” Ned said somewhat dreamily, still not completely over his hero-worship even though he and Tony had spent plenty of time together over the years. “So, what do you want to do this weekend?”

Peter shrugged, rolling over so he was no longer face-planting the bed. “I don’t know, what do you normally do on a Friday night?”

“I guess it depends. Sometimes me and some of my classmates will get together and play videogames, sometimes we study. There’s a party tonight. My whole class is invited, but I didn’t know if your security would, I don’t know, let you go?”

Ah, his security. A discrete and yet ever-present presence in his life. It was something he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to; being aware that there was a small group of people constantly following him, ready to strike on his behalf at the first sign of trouble. It was made even weirder by the fact that he was Spider-Man and he knew he could pretty easily look after himself. But, nobody other than his family knew that, and it would look pretty suspicious if Tony let his kid and grandkid wander around without any protection, so the security stayed.

He knew that there would be security stationed at either end of Ned’s hallway, plus a couple outside the main entrance. They were pretty good at being inconspicuous, but they were always there.

“Nah, I don’t think they’d mind. A party though? College really has changed you,” Peter teased, earning him a pillow to the head.

A college party. Man. Was this what eighteen-year-old who didn’t have kid’s got up to on the weekend? Crazy.

After a little gentle persuasion to his security team – which mostly involved Peter _insisting_ that if they came along to the party they _had to_ sit in the car outside rather than follow him around room to room – the decision was made. Peter was attending his first college party.

The house they pulled up outside of a few hours later wasn’t anything like the Hollywood movies would have Peter believe it would be. No crazy streamers were hanging from the trees, or kids throwing up on the front lawn. Not yet, at least. In fact, someone could have easily driven past and not even realised a party was going on straight away.

“We’re computer nerds,” Ned explained unnecessarily, noticing Peter’s slightly puzzled look. “We party but like, not that hard,” he laughed.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t been to a party since Flash’s Sweet Sixteen,” Peter joked back. “This is a definite upgrade.”

They walked side-by-side up the stairs that lead to the front door, where Ned knocked politely before stepping back to wait. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t like the movies.

A girl answered, dressed in simple black skinny jeans and a grey cropped t-shirt with _Smash the Patriarchy_ embroidered across the chest. Right on. “Ned!” she greeted, only slightly spilling from the red solo cup she held in her right hand. “We were all wondering when you’d get here, come in, come in,” she continued, gesturing wildly for he and Ned to enter.

“Hey, Taylor,” Ned smiled as they stepped over the threshold. “This is my friend I was telling you about. Peter, Taylor. Taylor, Peter.”

“Hey, good to meet you. Thanks for letting me tag along,” Peter greeted, holding out his hand, which Taylor completely ignored in favour of throwing her arms around him instead.

“Peter!” she cried, as though they were long lost friends. “It’s so good to meet you! Ned’s told us so much about you. Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand, “come meet the others!”

Peter flashed Ned a brief look of panic as he was dragged towards the living room. Ned just shrugged his shoulders and laughed, clearly more used to Taylor's eccentric friendliness (and possible drunkness?) than Peter.

The scene in the large living room was more like what Peter had been expecting of his first college party. There were probably a couple dozen people spread about the room, each with red solo cups and some even throwing back a couple of shots of a crystal clear liquid Peter could smell from halfway across the room. There was music playing – some indie band that Peter was semi-familiar with – but it wasn’t loud enough that people had to shout to hear each other. It was more of a get together than a party, which helped Peter relax a little, although he was still conscious of being in a room full of strangers.

“Hey, everybody!” Taylor called out, grabbing the room’s attention. “This is Ned’s friend Peter. Peter, this is everybody!”

Most of the room's occupants simply raised their cup in greeting before turning back to whatever they had been doing before, but a few came over to greet Ned and Peter properly, many already knowing who Peter was (either from Ned’s stories or from seeing him in the media, Peter wasn’t sure).

It turned out that pretty much everybody in the room was in Ned’s class – in his own words, they weren’t cool enough to get invited to the _real_ parties, so they held their own instead, not that Peter had anything to compare it to other than the charity gala, but he decided that didn’t count – but he was pretty sure he preferred the more low-key style of this party than the crazy frat parties he’d seen on TV.

After introductions had been made – Peter, doubtful that he’d remember anyone’s name in five minutes – he and Ned made their way to the kitchen to grab a drink. Other than the beer at his birthday, and the odd watered-down glass of wine Aunt May would sometimes let him have at Christmas, Peter had never drank before. All too aware of the fact at he wanted to enjoy his weekend with Ned and not have to nurse a hangover, coupled with the fact that he wasn’t really totally completely sure how alcohol affected him, Peter decided to play it safe, pouring himself half a cup of beer from the keg.

After grabbing their drinks, they managed to squeeze themselves onto a sofa and got chatting to a couple of guys he was pretty sure Ned had introduced as Zack and Vijay. The three other boys mostly chatted about their classes, which Peter was more than content to sit back and listen to. It was good to see Ned flourishing so much. Peter hadn’t seen him in person in so long, and he could tell that college had really allowed Ned to come out of his shell in a way that he never had at Midtown. He was glad for his friend.

Peter hardly noticed another knock at the door an hour or so later, too busy debating with his little group how easy it would be to hack into the Pentagon – all theory, of course. But, he did notice Ned tense slightly out of the corner of his eye.

“Ugh,” Vijay groaned, noticing the newcomer at the same time as Ned.

Zack looked over Peter’s shoulder to where the newcomer had just walked in and was walking towards the kitchen, rolling his eyes.

“What’s up?” Peter asked quietly, still nursing his original beer.

“Donald,” Zach explained quietly. “He’s in our class but he’s very… abrasive shall we say. Daddy’s some millionaire businessman, so thinks he’s all that. Tries to insists that people call him The Don for some reason.”

“Think Flash, but on steroids,” Ned added, taking a swig from his cup.

“Dude’s head is so far up his own ass, if I punched him in his stomach it’d break his nose,” Vijay added bluntly to snickers from the others.

“Why’s he here if none of you like him?” 

“Taylor’s too nice for her own good, that’s why,” Vijay mumbled.

“Taylor invites everyone one in our class to these things,” Ned explained, shrugging. “I think she’d feel bad if he was the only one she didn’t invite. I thought he wasn’t coming, though.” Ned turned to Zach.

“Yeah, same here,” Zach agreed. “Guess something must have changed his mind,” he murmured, his eyes catching Peter’s over the brim of his cup.

Peter watched in his peripheral as Donald exited the kitchen, making a beeline straight for their group. He felt his Spidey-Sense hum quietly just below his skin; a warning. _This guy is trouble._

Now he could get a good look at him, Peter couldn’t say that Donald looked like the typical spoilt rich kid he’d had the displeasure of meeting during his life. The dude was pretty unassuming; average build, average looking… average everything really.

“Neddy!” Donald cried obnoxiously as he approached, his arms wide and holding a solo cup in each hand. Before anyone could object, he was squeezing onto the far too small sofa in between Ned and Peter, his arms encircling their shoulders as though they were the best of buddies.

“Hey, Don,” Ned replied under duress, echoed by the other two boys reluctantly polite greetings.

Donald turned to face Peter. “You must be Stark’s kid. Neddy told us you were visiting this weekend.” Peter didn’t miss Ned’s subtle flinch at being called _Neddy_ for a second time. “Surprised you decided to tag along to this ol’ shindig. Can’t be anything compared to the parties _you’re_ used to, having Tony Stark as a dad.” 

“Um…”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Donald continued, leaning across Peter to take a swig from his cup, “Taylor throws a great party and everything. But people like us, we’re used to the slightly finer things in life, right Stark?”

“Actually…”

“Jeez, Don, stop grilling the poor guy. He’s not as acclimatised to your shit as the rest of us,” Vijay defended.

“I don’t remember asking you, Vagina,” Don sneered back. Peter rolled his eyes, remembering all the times Flash had called him Penis in high school. He had thought college insults would have grown to be slightly more inventive.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Don. Is that the best you can come up with? Insulting me with the name of something you’ll likely never get to see in your lifetime? Come back and try again when you can think of something original.” Vijay rolled his eyes, necking his drink.

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist, honey, I was only messing around,” Donald dismissed. “Some people can be so sensitive,” Donald winked at Peter, causing the boy to frown. Peter was minutes away from asking Ned if they could leave. He didn’t want to ruin the night for his friend, but he all of a sudden wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

Peter caught Ned’s eye, the two of them quickly having a silent conversation – a talent that’d perfected in elementary school and kept well oiled since then. At Ned’s subtle nod, Peter made to pull his phone from his pocket, planning on letting his security that they’d be out in a couple of minutes.

“So, Peter,” Donald began again, interrupting Peter’s subtle movements. “You just visiting for the weekend? Or are you using this as a little taster? Planning on joining us here next year?” Donald asked, bouncing his eyebrows up and down in a way that Peter supposed was meant to be funny.

“Er, yeah, just visiting. I’m starting at MIT in the fall; studying from home,” Peter answered politely, still attempting to discretely extract his phone from his jeans; a task that was made difficult by the fact they were squeezed onto the sofa so tightly.

“Ahh, yeah, of course. I remember hearing you mention that in your little press conference a few months ago. That was cute, by the way. I shouldn’t have bothered asking; of course, you’re going to MIT.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter prickled.

“Oh, nothing,” Donald smiled, sickly sweet. “Just, obviously, the kid of MIT alumni Tony Stark would go to MIT… I’m sure he has some great connections.”

“Peter got into MIT on his own, Don. He was one of the smartest kids at our high school,” Ned interjected, defending Peter’s honour.

“Oh, sure, sure! I’m not saying Peter isn’t smart, the opposite actually. He’s had a lot going on this year,” Dom eluded, believing, like so many other people, that he knew all about Peter just because he probably followed him on Instagram. “It’s smart to use your connections.”

“But, Peter _didn’t_ use Tony’s connections,” Ned defended, his growing annoyance clear. It only seemed to spur Donald on.

Peter took a deep breath, trying to get his suddenly racing heartbeat under control. This. _This_ is what he hated about the whole world knowing who he was. It was the blatant assumption that just because he did the press conference, and posted a few Instagrams a week, that everyone all of a sudden somehow _knew_ him. _Assumed_ things about him. He had dreamed of attending a school like MIT for as long as he could remember, ever since he had become even slightly interested in science in elementary school. He knew May and Ben had saved what they could here and there, basically for his whole life, so that he might be able to go to college one day.

And, now, here was this perfect stranger, believing that Peter had used Tony to get into MIT. Peter knew he had gotten in on his own merit, he had made Tony promise not to interfere, which the man had been more than happy to oblige. (“I won't interfere because I know I don’t need to, kiddo. They’d be idiots to turn you down.”). And Peter could defend himself until he was blue in the face – show Donald all the evidence, give him all the facts – but Peter knew that there was no point. There were thousands of people who thought the same as Donald, thought that Peter had somehow weaselled his way into Tony’s life just to take advantage of the man – Peter had seen their comments online after the press conference before Pepper made him stop looking. Those people had made up their minds, made an opinion of Peter, and no amount of dissuasion or evidence could deter them. It was a side of fame that Peter had come to reluctantly accept; you couldn’t please everyone, after all.

But it was a little more difficult to take the high ground when one of the people who believed those things were sat right next to you at a college party…

“Yeah, Don,” Vijay cut in. He and Zach had been following the exchange with morbid curiosity, glancing daggers at Donald periodically. “Just because you had to use your family’s name to get in here doesn’t mean Peter had to do the same for MIT.”

“Oh yeah, Vijay?” Donald sneered. “Well, just because _your_ family could barely scrape enough money to send you here, don’t take it out on me, okay?”

Vijay leapt to his feet, his throwing his empty cup aside as his hands formed into fists at his sides. “You little fucking…”

Peter noticed that their little disagreement seemed to be attracting the attention of the other guests in the room. A couple even had their phones out to record them, probably hoping for something juicy to smack a backing track over and post to Tiktok.

As much as Peter was definitely all for Donald being brought down a peg or two, he didn’t want that to be at the cost of Vijay; throwing punches could result in the man being expelled, and if what Donald said was true (even if he had chosen to say it in a particularly dickish way), that was something Vijay and his family definitely couldn’t afford.

By now, Vijay and Donald were both stood, chest to chest, and looking seconds away from a fight.

“Guys, come on. Let’s just cool it down a little, okay?” Peter mediated, standing to push the two other men apart. He turned his back on Donald, concentrating on Vijay instead. Patting his new friend on the back, Peter leant in. “Hey,” he said quietly as Vijay took a couple of deep breaths. “Just ignore him, okay? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. My family would have never been able to afford to send me to MIT; I’d have had to apply on a scholarship before Tony adopted me, and there’s no shame in that, okay? You got in here, just like everybody else.”

Vijay sighed shakily before looking at Peter. “Thanks, man. That… that means a lot.”

“Oh, yeah, you don’t have any family, right Peter?” Donald goaded from behind. Did this guy just not know when to read the room and _shut the fuck up_? “That sucks man… But hey, now you’re Tony Stark’s kid so silver linings, right?”

What. The. Fuck.

Peter didn’t know how it happened.

When he recounted the events of the evening to Tony later that night, after being ferried back to the dorms to collect his things and then driving over to the Malibu house at near midnight, he would tell the man that he couldn’t remember how it all went down. One minute, he was standing with his back to Donald as the guy talked smack, the next, he was pushing the kid up against the wall, one hand buried in Donald’s pretentious faux-silk shirt and the other curled into a fist at his side.

He’d never experienced anything like it before. His vision went dark around the edges, his ears were ringing, his hands were shaking. The urge to punch was so strong. He was hurt. Donald’s words against his friend, his family, the man that was basically his _dad_ , those had _hurt_. And he wanted to hurt Donald back. _God,_ he wanted to. So much.

Even as Spider-Man, he’d never felt that kind of rage. Maybe it was because the insults were so personal. Maybe it was because they were about his family. Maybe it was just because Donald was a grade-A asshole. But, Peter wanted this kid to be taught a lesson. And, he wanted to be the one to do it.

The ringing in his ears was blocking out the noise of the rest of the room. It got louder as he stared into Donald’s eyes. His hand was twitching with the urge to _move_ …

“-ter! Peter!”

Was that Ned?

“Come on, dude, he’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

That was definitely Ned.

Peter came back to himself suddenly. All the senses that had been cut off were back, almost to the point of overload.

His breathing was like thunder in his ears.

Ned’s hand on his shoulder was like an iron weight, full of burning heat.

The eyes of the room, all focused on him, were like lasers, boring into him in a way that the could almost physically feel, like pin-pricks all over his body.

He allowed Ned to pull him backwards and away from Donald, the kid slumping down the wall as Peter released him.

Peter heard the shutter of a phone camera.

Great. Pepper was going to kill him.

Peter turned to Ned, trying to ignore the rest of the room's occupants the best he could. He kept his head low and his voice quiet. “Sorry. You’re right. Let’s go.” He didn’t know how his voice remained so steady, but he was beyond thankful that it did. He turned to Zack and Vijay. “Do you guys need a ride?”

“Uh, that would actually be great, thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks, man.”

They filed out of the room in a line, awkwardly side-stepping the other guests on their way to the door, and stepped into the cool air of the evening.


	10. March - The Aftermath in Malibu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week that followed his fight with Donald, as February bled slowly into March, felt like one of the longest of Peter’s life. Peter had spent the week hiding away in the Malibu house with Tony, Abby and Pepper keeping him company, hoping that proverbial storm that had occurred as a result of his fight with Donald would blow over. 
> 
> No such luck, unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She livessssss! 
> 
> Hey guys! Wow. I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update! I've had this chapter planned for literal weeks, and was almost completely finished writing it and thennn... I read it through and hated it. It was irredeemable and not good enough imo, and so the chapter was scrapped, completely re-storied and planned and I've spent the last two days attempting to write like the wind to get the new version ASAP! So, I really apologise for the wait, but I hope you can understand that I really really try my best to give you something that's actually semi-decent, rather than just uploading a shitty chapter for the sake of it, and that's unfortunately what caused the delay this week. Please forgive meeeeee! <3 
> 
> But we're here now bitches! And I hope you enjoy!

**_Present day._ **

The week that followed his fight with Donald, as February bled slowly into March, felt like one of the longest of Peter’s life. Peter had spent the week hiding away in the Malibu house with Tony, Abby and Pepper keeping him company, hoping that proverbial storm that had occurred as a result of his fight with Donald would blow over.

No such luck, unfortunately.

The crazy thing was that the matter had actually been settled almost immediately between the Starks and Donald’s family. A sincere apology from Peter, a healthy sum of hush-money (which Peter felt horribly guilty about) from Tony and an unnegotiable gag-order from Pepper had seen the matter resolved and forgotten between the two families almost as quickly as it had happened.

But what Peter was quickly learning was that it took more than apologies and money to make the rest of the world forget your mistakes. Thanks to half of the guests at Taylor’s party filming the incident and sharing it online, more people than Peter could have ever have imagined had managed to have front row seats to Peter’s loss of control. And the court of social media was not kind with it’s sentencing.

It felt to Peter like half the world was on his side; they understood from the phone footage that Donald had goaded Peter; pushed him too far until he snapped, as almost any reasonable person would. He hadn’t thrown any punches. He hadn’t hurt Donald or retaliated with cruel words of his own. He had reacted like so many others would have in the same situation, and lots of people seemed to realise that, and even relate to it.

But then it felt like half the world was decidedly _not_ on his side. In the polarised world of celebrities, social media and cancel culture, it felt like those that weren’t with Peter were against him. For every comment of support, he saw another slating him, suggesting that as a quote-unquote _famous person_ he should know better than to get involved in college scuffles, as though people in the spotlight were somehow automatically elevated to a level of self-control above that of the everyday man. It seemed as though the release of the videos had given anyone with a negative opinion of Peter the freedom to shout that judgment from the rooftops with little to no consequences. Which was _super great_ for Peter’s self-esteem, honestly.

And what was worse was that the vitriol being spewed towards him from hundreds of strangers at the other side of a screen weren’t just aimed at him. There were criticisms about Tony; how he was unfit to be a father and _of course_ any child left in his care would grow up to be a disappointment. Peter was a teen father, after all. Not something that any _decent_ parent would allow. Then there were the comments about the company; about how SI was surely destined to fail catastrophically with Peter at the helm in the future if the kid couldn’t keep control of his temper with something as simple as a college bully. There were comments that included The Parker Foundation too; about how any charity with someone as volatile as Peter as the patron was fated for failure, and even some remarks about how the foundation’s very existence inadvertently encouraged kids to become teen parents. It was the comments that brought Abby into the whole mess that hurt the most, though. They called Peter an unfit father, criticised him for his parenting choices, suggested Abby would have been better off had she been left to grow up with her mother instead of her father.

Yeah. They were the worst.

Still, Peter knew those things weren’t true. And he had known from the moment Tony had adopted him that his identity would be revealed to the public at some point, and he knew that when that happened, he would have to learn to take the rough with the smooth when it came to public opinion. Since the press conference, he’d been riding along on the smooth wave very happily, thank you very much. It figured that he was over-due some rough…

On the nights that Peter found himself crying into Tony’s shoulder at the injustice of it all, Tony reassured him with stories from his own youth, assuring Peter that if his reputation and the reputation of Stark Industries could survive the time he got so drunk at a Playboy mansion party that he ended up falling asleep in the fountain after throwing up down the cleavage of one of Hugh’s girlfriends, then Peter’s reputation could survive a little college scuffle. And in those moments, with Tony’s soothing words reverberating around his mind, Peter felt better.

He knew he would get used to the fickle nature of the general public in time, but it had only been a few months since he had been flung into the limelight from obscurity, and his fight with Donald was his first _real_ taste of negative publicity.

Tony assured him that it would all blow over; that in a few days or weeks there would be some other celebrity going through some other scandal and Peter and his minor misdemeanour would be forgotten in no time. Peter knew it was true, he’d seen it first-hand with his own idols, including Tony, when he was a kid. He couldn’t wait for that day to come.

Until then, he was doing his best while laying low to enjoy some quality time with his daughter and Tony in sunny Malibu, staying away from his socials as much as possible, per Pepper’s request, and trying to forget the whole horrible ordeal had happened.

It had been one hell of a night, and not one that Peter wanted a repeat of any time soon.

* * *

**_One week earlier._ **

Peter strode out of Taylor’s house and into the cool night air with purposeful steps, the heat of his argument with Donald still prickling under his skin. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think about what had just happened, about backing Donald into that wall, about the dozens of cameras that were pointed in his direction…

No, he couldn’t think about those things. He just wanted to get back to Tony and Abby, back to his family, and try to forget this whole horrid night had ever happened.

He heard footsteps from behind, knew they were trying to catch up with him, and it was only then that he remembered Ned and the other boys he’d offered a ride to. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to slow his steps. He wanted to get to the car, get home, get to Tony.

Tony would know what to do.

They made it to where his security was waiting, the team split between two inconspicuous black Audis. The head of his team, a stern woman named Ruth, bundled the four teens into her car quickly, without asking any questions. She slid into the driver’s seat, with Peter joining her in the front and the other three boys squeezing together in the back, locking the doors once everyone was inside.

Ruth turned to him, her face focused. She didn’t know what had happened; didn’t know if there was a threat. Peter could see that she was on alert and prepared for anything.

“What do you need, Peter?” she asked in a no-nonsense voice, ignoring the other teens, who were remaining steadfastly quiet. It had been _Mr Parker-Stark_ for a long time, until Peter had managed to convince her if she was going to be the head of his security, they might as well be on a first name terms.

Peter took a couple of deep, steadying breaths, hoping that his voice wouldn’t break when he spoke. “Tony,” he answered, the tremble in his voice subtle enough that he hoped the others wouldn’t notice. As friendly as Vijay and Zack had been, he didn’t want to fall apart in front of strangers.

Ruth nodded once, before turning in her seat to look at Ned and his friends. “You guys have two options; we can drop you off at your dorms, or you can come with Peter and I to the Malibu house. I would prefer to get Peter home as quickly as possible, and there are plenty of guess rooms at the house, as well as spare clothing and toiletries, but I’d understand if you’d rather go back to your dorms.”

Peter appreciated Ruth taking control of the situation. He’d remind himself later, when was wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack, to ask Tony to give the bodyguard a raise.

No one spoke for a time. And then…

“I, um,” Ned cleared his throat, “I’d rather come with you guys and make sure Peter’s okay, if that’s alright?”

Ruth nodded. “What about you two?”

It was Vijay that spoke. “If it’s cool with Peter, I think we’d like to come too, please, ma’am. He… he stuck up for me in there. I think we’d like to make sure he gets home okay, right Zack?”

“Definitely.”

Ruth turned to look at Peter, gauging his response. He nodded. He just wanted to get home as quickly as possible, and he didn’t really mind Vijay and Zack tagging along if it meant that could happen.

Ruth pulled out her phone, sending a couple of quick texts – to the rest of the security team and Tony, Peter assumed – before instructing the boys to fasten their seatbelts. As the car pulled away, leaving Taylor’s house behind, Peter couldn’t help mentally thanking Ruth for her matter-of-fact handling of things. The woman didn’t even know what was going on, only that something had happened inside the house, and she was handling things as quickly and practically as possible. She actually reminded Peter of Pepper in many ways. Maybe that was why Tony had hired her to head up Peter’s team.

The ride to the Malibu house was silent. It felt as though no one dare speak. Like they wanted Peter to be the one to break the silence. He felt bad for Ned and his friends, for the awkwardness that he was putting them through, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to speak and end the tension. He wanted Tony, and Abby, and his bed, and the familiarity of home. He wanted to pull a blanket over his head and forget ever meeting Donald.

But that wasn’t real life.

If his life experiences had taught Peter anything, it was that you couldn’t hide from your problems. He couldn’t hide away when he failed to save someone out on a mission. He couldn’t hide away from May’s diagnosis. And he couldn’t hide away from this.

But if living with Tony had taught Peter anything, it was that those problems didn’t have to be dealt with alone.

The drive passed in a blur of dark night skies and streaming streetlights, and before he knew it, they were pulling through the electric gates that guarded the Malibu house.

The house itself was modern, of course. Like, Tony Stark would accept anything else. The white walls and floor to ceiling windows lit up with warm outdoor lighting that made the building look inviting despite its firm straight lines and imposing nature.

Peter’s sensitive hearing picked up a couple of whispered gasps from the back seat as Ruth brought the car to a stop at the bottom of the stairs that led to the front door. Tony was stood on the front porch, his arms crossed over his chest. Even from the car, Peter could see the lines of worry that decorated the man’s face.

Not bothering to wait for the others, Peter unbuckled his seatbelt and was out and walking towards Tony slightly faster than was probably normal for a non-enhanced teen. He couldn’t find it in himself to worry whether or not Zack and Vijay noticed.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony said softly, as Peter approached, “rough night?”

Peter nodded, not caring about his audience as he made his way over to Tony and allowed the elder man to wrap his arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. The embrace immediately relieved some of the weight Peter felt pushing down on his shoulders, as though just being in Tony’s very presence lightened the load.

They stayed like that for a few moments until Tony pulled away reluctantly, keeping Peter close to his side with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Ned,” Tony said then, “who are your friends?”

“Hey, Mr Stark,” Ned replied, a sad lilt to his voice, “this is Vijay and Zach, we have some classes together.”

“More computer nerds,” Tony joked playfully, breaking some of the heavy atmosphere, “just what we need,” he winked, earning him half a half-hearted but appreciative grin from both Peter and Ned and a bemused look from the other two.

Vijay and Zack had been standing silently, their faces a picture. If it weren’t for the anxiety-fuelled past couple of hours, Peter might have laughed. Of course, both boys knew that Peter was Tony’s kid, but it appeared that _knowing_ something and _seeing_ it in the flesh were two separate things. Peter doubted that the two boys had ever envisioned their evening ending with meeting _the_ Tony Stark. The studied tech for God’s sake; Tony was a legend to them.

“Well, it’s good to meet you, boys,” Tony continued. “Thanks for getting them back safely, Ruth.” The bodyguarded nodded wordlessly before turning to make her leave, offering Peter a small smile as she did so. “Let’s move this party inside so one of you can explain what’s going on.”

The living room of the Malibu house was warm and welcoming, with soft lights and a crackling faux fireplace illuminating the darkness of the night and offsetting the cool modern furniture.

Peter took a seat on the sofa beside Tony, not allowing himself to move too far away from the man’s comforting presence. Ned made himself at home on the sofa opposite, a driftwood coffee table separating them, and gestured for Vijay and Zack to join him. The two boys perched on the piece of furniture, looking more like they were heading into an interrogation rather than a conversation.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” Tony asked their guests, the newcomers to baulking at his domesticity before shaking their heads. “Okay, so who wants to be the one to fill me in on what went down tonight?”

Peter sighed, leaning heavily against the back of the couch and looking up at the ceiling. “Got into a fight,” he said simply, monotone. “Everybody filmed it. It’s probably already online. Pepper’s going to kill me.”

Peter couldn’t see Tony’s reaction, but the elder man remained silent for a few seconds. The thing was, Peter knew Tony wouldn’t be disappointed in him. Never, in all the time the pair had known each other, had Tony been disappointed in him. Worried about him? Yes. Exasperated with him, especially when Peter displayed some more Tony-like tendencies? Definitely. But never disappointed. It was more so the fact that Peter was disappointed in himself, for making a rash decision, even if it was done with the best of intentions, and inadvertently causing what he was sure would be a shitshow that Tony and Pepper would likely have to spend the next couple of weeks cleaning up. And, getting into stupid college fights was hardly the example he wanted to be setting for his daughter, even though she was too young to understand those kinds of things yet. He was Spider-Man, he was Peter Parker-Stark, and he should know better.

“Okay,” Tony declared, clapping his hands together and leaning forwards until his arms were resting on his knees, “now, who’s going to give me the non-self-depreciating version of tonight?”

Ned opened his mouth as if to reply, but it was Vijay that answered, his voice quiet and unsure under Tony’s gaze. “It was my fault, sir.”

“No, Vijay, it wasn’t…” Peter tried to cut in.

“Peter was defending me,” Vijay went on, as though Peter hadn’t spoken. Tony was listening intently. “There’s this total ass, sorry, um, this guy, in our class – he was at the party – and he started mouthing off about my family and Peter was defending me…”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Tony interjected, bringing his hand to rest on Peter’s knee. “And don’t worry kid,” Tony went on, addressing Vijay directly, “calling an ass an ass is allowed in this house,” he winked. Peter was envious of Tony’s ability to take everything in his stride, to seem cool and confident even in the most stressful of situations. Although, Peter rationalised, despite the disaster that this evening had turned into, realistically, it still wasn’t the most stressful situation neither he nor Tony had ever been in. Peter held back a shiver at that thought. “So, this kid was picking on you – which we’ll be circling back to, by the way – then what happened?”

The three boys sat on the other sofa looked between themselves almost comically, none of them wanting to be the one to answer.

Peter sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before he spoke.

“He told me that my family dying was a silver lining because it meant I was adopted by you.” Pause. “And I lost it. And I shoved him up against the wall in front of a room full of people.” Pause. “Sorry, Tony,” Peter all but whispered, heat building behind his eyes that he blinked away quickly.

Dead silence filled the room, broken up only by the cracking of the fire. Peter was sure the other boys were holding their breath, even Ned, probably waiting for the explosion of anger they were sure was going to come from Tony. There was a twitch at Tony’s temple as he clenched and unclenched his jaw and the hand on Peter’s knee was squeezing just ever so slightly harder than before.

A moment passed.

“Hey,” Tony said finally, his voice firm and rough as he turned to Peter. His Iron hand grabbed the nape of Peter’s neck, forcing their eyes to meet. “You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You don’t apologise for him.”

“But everyone saw,” Peter whispered, his teary eyes boring into Tony’s heat-filled ones, anchoring Peter. The panic was starting to set in now. He had pinned Donald up against a wall. He had attacked someone, in front of a room full of people. The press was going to eat him alive when they found out, and Peter wasn’t sure he could handle that. “Everyone was watching and some of them were recording it on their phones and it’s probably already over Twitter and…”

“I don’t care, okay? I don’t care. People can say whatever the fuck they want. That was a-a _beyond_ shitty thing for him to say, and your reaction was valid, and anyone who can’t see that? Well, fuck them. And, Twitter and the press and all that crap, we’ll deal with it, okay?” The artificially warm thumb of Tony’s Iron hand rubbed gentle, comforting circles just under Peter’s ear, soft and soothing despite the firmness of the metal.

Peter was concentrating so hard on not crying that he could do nothing but nod his head, happy to be swept away by Tony’s reassurance.

They shared a moment, Tony silently communicating his love and support and Peter returning the favour with a message of his own, full of thanks and appreciation, before the moment ended.

“Okay,” Tony said finally, breaking his gaze away from Peter and turning to the others. “So, here’s what we’re going to do. Fri, are you listening, honey?”

“ _Always, Boss._ ”

Peter made a mental note to have F.R.I.D.A.Y. replay him the footage of that moment when things weren’t quite so stressful, just so he could relive the looks of shock and wonder on Vijay and Zack’s faces at the AI’s voice.

“Good girl. First, we need pizza – you guys like pizza, right?” Their guests nodded, dumbfounded. “Cool, pizza it is. Any preference on toppings?” Their guests shook their heads, still dumbfounded. “Just get a variety then, Fri.”

“ _Done. Next?_ ”

“Get Pepper on a plane – I don’t care what she’s doing, tell her it’ll have to wait. I want her here tomorrow and I want everything you have on this Donald kid and his family sent over so she can view it on the plane. Goes without saying but keep her up to date on the reactions online as those videos start getting uploaded, as well.”

“ _Her plane is due to land at LAX at six-thirty tomorrow morning and I have passed along your instructions.”_

 _“_ That is so cool,” Zack whispered with wide eyes, only realising he’d said the words out loud when everyone turned to look at him.

“Right?” Tony smirked. “Okay, kiddies,” Tony clapped his hands together, breaking the tense atmosphere, “guest rooms are up the stairs and to the right, pick whichever you like, they’re all fully stocked. Clean up, get yourselves into something more comfortable and meet back down here in thirty for the pizza party of your life, capiche?”

“Thanks, Mr Stark,” Ned said, offering Peter a smile as he nudged the other boys off the sofa and towards the stairs.

Just before they disappeared out of sight, Tony called out to Vijay. “Hey, kid!” All three boys turned, no one knowing which ‘kid’ Tony meant. “How come this Donald guy was picking on you in the first place?”

Vijay, now realising who Tony was addressing, looked at his feet, clearly uncomfortable but choosing to answer anyway. “Oh, um. My family struggle, money wise, to send me to Cal Tech and, um… Donald just likes to remind me of that, sir,” he shrugged, pink tinging his cheeks.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Jesus, is that the best he could come up with? So, not only is this guy a dick, but he’s an unoriginal one, too? Figures. Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Tony went on, ignoring Vijay’s confused expression. “Consider your fees paid, tuition and living, whatever you need. You too, Zack.”

The boys gaped at Tony.

“Sir, we can’t…”

“Mr Stark, that’s so kind, but…”

“None of that,” Tony dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I pay for Ned, I’ll be paying for Peter, and now I want to pay for you. And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Tony Stark always get what he wants,” Tony winked. “Now, chop chop! Pizza parties wait for no man!”

Ned was snickering as he shoved the shellshocked boys up the remaining couple of stairs, their disbelieving whispers fading away as they headed towards the bedrooms.

Peter let out a breath as the other boys disappeared out of sight, allowing himself to relax for the first time that evening, slumping into Tony’s warm side. An arm wrapped around him, rubbing up and down his arm as a kiss was pressed to his forehead. “It’s all going to be okay, Pete,” Tony murmured into his curls, “I’ll take care of it.”

After a little while, Tony sent Peter upstairs to get ready for their takeout as well. Peter went to Tony’s room, quickly showered, and changed into sweats and one of Tony’s threadbare band t-shirts before dipping into his own bedroom where Abby was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware at the shitshow her daddy had unleashed that evening. She was almost sleeping through the night now, and Peter didn’t want to disrupt that routine, so he left her where she lay, choosing to stand for a few moments and watch her gentle breaths come and go instead, stroking her cheek lightly with the pad of his thumb.

Concentrating on his daughter’s steady and sure breaths helped Peter relax some. He had made a mistake with Donald, allowing his emotions to get the better of him, and he knew there was a metaphorical storm heading his way come morning, maybe even before then. But looking at Abby, knowing that in a few hours she would be awake, probably crying, demanding Peter’s attention and her breakfast and her routine, helped remind him that he couldn’t get bogged down by the Donald situation. As much as he would love to just curl up in a ball, eat ice cream from the tub and watch Star Wars on repeat until the whole mess was forgotten, he knew he couldn’t do that. He had Abby, he had responsibilities, and on top of everything else? He had been through worse. He had sailed rougher seas than these and come out the other side stronger and more resilient than before, and he would do the same this time.

* * *

**_Present day._ **

Tony was sat at the desk in the office of the Malibu house when Peter walked in, plopping himself down into the chair opposite. He’d decided to come and find the elder man having gotten bored with watching TV. Abby was down for a nap and Pepper was out visiting SI’s LA office, and Peter had felt like company. Usually, he might have mindlessly scrolled on Instagram or Twitter for a little while, but his name was still too hot of a topic to be avoided.

“Whatchya doing?” Peter asked, rocking his desk chair back and forth annoyingly.

“Just ordering a few new books to read to Abby,” the elder man answered distractedly, his eyes not leaving the holo-screen in front of him. “Why the hell are baby books so expensive? There’s about seventeen words in them if you’re lucky and the prices are extortionate. I mean, yeah, I know you can read them again and again – I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read _Abby The Tiger Who Came to Tea_ – but still! Where’s the variety? Where’s the flavour?”

“Are you finished?” Peter laughed. Tony gave him a look but nodded. “Okay, first of all,” Peter chuckled, “you’ve been spending way too much time on TikTok.” Tony brushed him off with a wave of his hand. “And secondly, since when did you care about the price of _literally anything_?”

“You and Pepper are always telling me I need to be more money conscious.”

“Yeah, and you never are! Are you choosing baby books as your hill to die on?”

“I’m just saying, the education of tomorrows youth shouldn’t be such a high-priced commodity, is It so hard to believe I have a heart?!” Tony asked with faux hurt laced in his voice, throwing a ball of rolled up paper at Peter’s head.

Peter caught it, of course, and sent it flying back. “Nah, we all know you’re a massive softie, really,” Peter winked, ignoring Tony’s cries of protest. “And to be fair, you do make a good point. Maybe I could look into the foundation using some of the funding to pay for a baby library or something. I have a meeting next week about the parent and baby groups we’re hoping to set up, we could maybe implement something alongside that. Like, the parents come for group each week, pick a few books and then swap them out for new ones in the following session or something, what do you think?”

Tony was looking at Peter with love filled eyes and a soft smile on his face. “ _I_ think,” he said, “that you’re an amazing kid. And that I’m really fucking proud of you.”

Peter blushed. “Even though I get into fights at college parties and I’m the largest contributing factor to your hair now being more grey than brown?” Peter asked cheekily.

“Even then,” Tony smiled, kicking Peter’s foot under the table with his own.

Tony’s comments caused something warm and light to balloon in Peter’s chest; gratitude, that he had this man supporting him.

And it made Peter look forward to the future. All week he had been riddled with anxiety, worrying about what people were saying about him online, about their opinions. But, in that moment, with Tony looking at him with so much love and pride, Peter found he didn’t really care. Those that mattered were proud of him, so who the fuck cared what other people thought?

He was Spider-Man for God’s sake. He was Peter Parker-Stark, he was a son, he was a father, he was a friend. He could take people’s scrutiny, their criticism, their empty words and made up stories. He could take it because the people that he loved and that loved him back knew the truth.

When they went home to New York in a couple of days, Peter was determined to leave the events that had occurred at CalTech behind him. The public and the press could move on with him, or they could stay stuck in the past, talking about the same old crap and going round and round in never ending circles, if they wanted to. It didn’t matter to Peter.

He had his family. He had the foundation. He was helping people both publicly and privately. He was doing something with his life to actually make a difference to the world. His family was proud of him. And that was what mattered.


	11. April - Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of hours later found Peter and Tony stood in the elevator of the Tower with Abby securely fastened to Peter’s chest in her papoose, the little family ready for their first baby group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Imagine Mushu rising from the ground* I LIVEEEEEEEEE!
> 
> Hey my peeps! Long time, no see, and for that I am sorry!   
> I never ever intended to leave this fic without an update for so long, but life took my plans and said YEET, and that was that. (Who knew living through a global pandemic was so exhausting, amirite?)  
> Thanks so much for your patience and for your lovely comments last chapter about working at my own pace, I see you, I appreciate you, and I love you. 
> 
> Anyway, we're back and better than ever, baby! This chap is just fluff. Pure, self-indulgent, tooth-rotting fluff, so please enjoy!
> 
> Also, Merry Christmas to those of you that celebrate it, Happy Holidays to those of you that don't, and Merry Friday night/Saturday morning to everyone else!

It was a sunny morning, although unusually chilly for the time of year, as Peter pushed Abby’s stroller along the path in Central Park. It was relatively busy considering it was a weekday but Peter didn’t let that perturb him. Happy had decided to tag along on their family outing, fancying a little fresh air (and some almost one-on-one time with Abby, Peter suspected). The elder man trailed along beside them, dressed casually for a change, swapping his usual crisp suit for dark wash jeans and a thick winter coat buttoned to the top to keep out the unusually harsh April chill. The family had stopped wearing their best clothes around Abby months ago, knowing all too well how messy the little girl liked to get herself (and those around her). The only exception to the unspoken rule was Pepper because… well because she was Pepper, and if she didn’t want dirt to get on her clothes, then you could bet your ass there would be no dirt getting on her clothes. Whether that was by sheer luck or some kind of magical power the woman possessed, Peter wasn’t sure, but it hadn’t failed her yet.

Peter also had a pretty good inkling that Tony had put Happy up to the idea of tagging along, the elder man still not fully comfortable with Peter and Abby going out alone after the events of the past few weeks. The world’s interest in Peter’s life had only increased since the incident with Donald. Peter’s security had been stepped up as a result, and he almost always _just so happened_ to have someone from the family accompanying him if he went out alone and Tony wasn’t available to accompany him. Today must have been Happy’s shift.

Not that Peter minded, in all honesty. Happy was usually a pretty busy guy so it was nice for him and Abby to get to spend some quality time with the man.

They walked along, side by side, for a little while. Peter’s security team, headed up as always by the formidable Ruth, following discretely. A couple were hovering to the right-hand side of them, while two more, including Ruth, hung back to the rear. They always dressed in civilian clothes whenever they were accompanying Peter in these kinds of situations. At events or galas, they dressed in the usual security get-up of a smart suit and even sunglasses in some cases – they always reminded Peter of the social worker from Lilo and Sitch whenever they dressed like that, not that he dare say that to their faces. Happy said it was so they were a visible deterrent for anyone thinking about trying anything, which Peter could understand. But when they were out in more casual settings, like today, Peter preferred _not_ to draw attention to himself or Abby, so the team dressed appropriately.

Checking his StarkWatch and noticing that it was nearing Abby’s usual snack time, they stopped at a pond in the south end of the park, securing themselves a secluded bench where they could be tucked away but still enjoy the morning sun.

Peter sat Abby on his lap, grabbing the small Tupperware box of banana he’d stuffed into her diaper bag from Happy’s helpful hands, along with a sippy-bottle of water and a packet of wet wipes; snack time with Abby was always a messy affair.

Abby looked at the banana eagerly, but refused to take it from the Tupperware box that Peter offered, instead insisting – through some not-so-subtle grumbling and slappy palms against Peter’s wrist – that Peter be the one to hold the tiny baby-bite-sized chunks of fruit in his hand for her to pick from, much to Happy’s amusement.

The banana became warm and mushy within a few minutes of being cupped in Peter’s hand, not helped by the fact that Abby liked to squish it around with her fingers before choosing a piece to eat.

It was gross, but that was parenthood.

Happy laughed at her antics. “Were you this picky as a kid or so you think she’s learning the art of always getting her own way from Tony?”

Peter smiled wryly at the man as Abby carefully selected her next piece of fruit. “I was an angel child, thank you very much. She definitely gets it from Tony, although I’m pretty sure all her aunts and uncles,” Peter gave Happy a pointed look, “spoiling her rotten definitely doesn’t help.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way though,” Happy mused as he leant back against the bench, his eyes full of memories Peter himself was all too familiar with as he gazed across the pond. The Avengers had been through so much and got all the glory as a result. It was easy to forget that people like Happy had been by their side the entire time, maybe not an Avenger in name, but experiencing the battles and the losses just as harshly; an Avenger in spirit. Yes, they had come out as the winning side against Thanos. But the world, and the team personally, had lost so much and so many along the way. So, if he and Tony and the rest of the family wanted to spoil Abby, the light of all their lives, then they were going to. And they for sure weren’t going to feel guilty for it. “Little gremlin deserves it,” Happy said gruffly, his eyes landing back on the girl as she smushed a piece of banana against her cheek in a failed attempt at making it to her mouth.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while as Abby enjoyed her snack, the little girl’s eyes tracking the activity of the park from her perch on Peter’s lap.

The sound of Peter’s phone ringing disrupted the moment of peace. He looked down at himself, both of his hands occupied; one being used as a banana bowl and the other supporting Abby against himself so she didn’t fall, then looked up at Happy.

The elder man rolled his eyes but got the message, reaching forward to grab the ringing phone from Peter’s jacket pocket.

“Tony,” Happy glanced at the screen, swiping his finger to answer the call and holding the phone up to Peter’s ear with a muttered, “the things I do for you, kid.”

“Hey, Pete,” came Tony’s voice, “you busy?”

“Nah,” Peter smiled. Happy rolled his eyes, pretending that his arm was getting tired. “But you are. Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting with Pepper and the board right now?”

“We’re taking a break and I’m bored out of my mind, _please_ give me an excuse to get out of this afternoon, I can't take much more of this.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Peter laughed, “that kind of sounds like a _you_ problem,” he continued cheekily.

“Oh, yeah? Well, Abby’s explosive diaper episode the other day seemed like a _you_ problem, too, but I still distinctly remember helping you out with that one…”

Peter was really laughing now, remembering the event with frightening clarity. “Okay, okay, _fine_. We’ll be heading back to the Tower in a few, Abby’ll be having her nap, and then I’m taking her to that baby group after lunch if you want to come?”

“Yes. Yes, most definitely. And obviously, you’ll need some company for lunch so I’ll just go tell Pepper I might as well leave now, don’t want to make a scene by having to leave in the middle of a meeting…”

“Whatever you say, Tony,” Peter chuckled. “Good luck breaking that one to Pepper.”

“You know anything to do with Abby is her Achilles heel, I’ll be fine. See you soon, kiddo!”

“Bye, Tony. Good luck!”

* * *

A couple of hours later found Peter and Tony stood in the elevator of the Tower with Abby securely fastened to Peter’s chest in her papoose, the little family ready for their first baby group.

The group was another of the Parker Foundations ventures, and similarly to other events hosted by the charity, was being held in one of the lower, public levels of the Tower. It was open to everyone, both foundation beneficiaries and anyone who wasn’t directly involved with the charity; having a baby was the only requirement. The intention was that the group would give the attendees a great opportunity to meet even more parents and possibly learn a few things from those perhaps more experienced than themselves.

“You don’t think people will think it’s weird I’m tagging along to this shindig, do you?” Tony asked in a rarely witnessed moment of vulnerability as F.R.I.D.A.Y. carried them downwards. “I mean, it’s a parent and baby group, and despite what Pepper may mumble under her breath when she thinks I can't hear her, I’m neither of those things.”

Peter smiled, bumping his shoulder against Tony’s. “You’re good. I’m sure you won't be the only grandparent there. And, you do kind of own the building, so I guess you can do what you like.”

“That’s true,” Tony agreed, his shoulders relaxing subtly. 

Peter smiled to himself as the elevator doors opened onto one of the Tower’s lower levels, stopping Tony with a hand on his arm before they exited.

“ _And_ ,” Peter said softly, “you _are_ a parent.”

Tony’s eyes softened.

“Maybe not to a baby,” Peter went on, his voice returning to its jovial tone from earlier, “but still,” he smiled.

The crinkles at the corners of Tony’s eyes got deeper as the man laughed. “You never know, I might still learn something I can apply to you, Spiderbaby.”

Peter gave Tony’s arm a shove as they finally stepped out of the elevator, making their way down the corridor until they reached what was once a small rarely-used office space, but had since been repurposed for the different kiddie groups the foundation was planning on holding. In addition to the group they would be attending today, which was for babies up to twelve months and their families, there were also different groups aimed at other age ranges, and even some designed just for parents to attend to have what the marketing team had wanted to dub ‘adult time’ before Peter awkwardly suggested how _that_ particular title might be misconstrued.

The space was modest in size to give a more friendly and intimate feeling but had been expertly decorated. Honestly, it was like a toddler's dream had come to life and spewed up all over the walls, floor and even ceiling. Every available surface was decorated with bright colours and textures, endless drawers of toys and art supplies and dress-up costumes lined the walls, with some larger items like a dollhouse and a small inflatable ball-pit placed strategically around the room.

Honestly, the place was an assault on Peter’s senses, but he knew the babies would love it.

“I should have worn my sunglasses,” Tony mumbled quietly as they stepped through the doorway.

Unsurprisingly, considering they lived in the building and therefore, most definitely had the shortest commute, they were the first family to arrive. The group leader, a curvy middle-aged woman with laugh lines around her eyes when she smiled, appeared to be just finishing setting up some cushions in a circle on the floor. Her eyes landed on them and she immediately broke out into a broad grin, seemingly completely unperturbed by the fact that Tony Stark had just walked through the door, welcoming them and directing them to take a seat on the cushions with Abby on Peter’s lap.

Over the next ten minutes or so, more and more people and their babies filtered through the door. Peter found himself pleasantly surprised at the variety of people joining them. Despite not needing to be a beneficiary of the foundation to attend the groups, Peter had assumed that most of those in attendance would be close to his own age, but that wasn’t the case. Certainly, there were more parents closer to Peter’s age than not, but there were a handful of people that Peter would definitely estimate at over thirty. Some were even nearing Tony’s age if Peter was guessing correctly. It filled Peter with happiness to see a service that he himself had had a hand in bringing to fruition being used by such a variety of people.

Eventually, all of the cushions in the circle had a parent attached to it, each with a little squirming baby sat in front of them. As Peter had predicted, Tony wasn’t the only parent who had decided to bring along a friend or family member with them, and he felt Tony relax at the side of him at the realisation.

“Hello everybody, and welcome!” the leader said cheerily, joining the circle herself. “Thank you so much for choosing to join us today!”

“That level of happiness can’t be good for a person, right?” Peter heard Tony mumble, too quiet for human ears. Peter suppressed a smile.

The leader introduced herself as Janet before making the parents go around the room and introduce themselves, their babies, and why they’d decided to come to the group.

“Hi everyone, my name's Peter,” Peter began when the activity made its way around to him, “and this is Abby,” he went on, nodding to where the girl squirmed in his lap, sick of sitting still and eager to get playing “and we decided to join the group today because we thought Tony here might enjoy the finger painting,” Peter finished with a smirk. Most of the parents in the circle chuckled, including Janet, a couple shooting Tony cautious looks as though expecting the man to be angry with Peter’s teasing words.

“I call dibs on the red and gold,” Tony added with a wink, causing another round of laughs.

Despite the introductions reminding him far too much of the first days of school, they did help Peter learn that he was sat between a single father around his age with a daughter of his own, and an older couple who had adopted their baby son a little over a month ago.

Once all the introductions had been made, Janet made her way over to some of the colourful containers that lined one of the brightly decorated walls, grabbing a box of baby-sized musical instruments.

Peter turned to look at Tony, the man giving him a dubious look at the thought of a dozen babies banging on drums or pitchily playing a xylophone. In truth, Peter had some reservations about the activity himself. Although far better than when she was a newborn, Abby still found overly-loud or sudden noises too much for her sensitive Spidey-Senses. He hoped this particular activity wouldn’t result in an epic Abby-esque breakdown.

Turned out, Peter needn't have worried.

Abby _loved_ the music time.

Janet had passed out the instruments at random, some of the babies needing help from their guardians to hold them while others grabbed the items with confidence. Abby ended up with a small set of wooden maracas that she shook and shook and shook, laughing hysterically at the sound of the beans rattling around inside the little wooden instruments. Peter and Tony laughed along too, delighting in Abby’s enjoyment as the girl tried something new – banging the two maracas together rather than shaking them independently – blinking owlishly at the change of noise before repeating the action again and grinning.

“Good job, Abs!” Peter laughed.

“Looks like we’ve got a little musician on our hands, Pete,” Tony said, nudging Peter with his elbow.

The little girl looked up at her daddy and grandpa, grinning widely and babbling in a language that was almost English, but not quite there yet. 

“I totally agree, kiddo,” Tony smiled at the girl, tucking a stray curl back into one of the butterfly-clips holding Abby’s unruly fringe at bay, “couldn’t have said it better myself.”

After the babies had had some free-play time for a little while, the instruments were placed out of reach, and Janet instructed the parents and guardians to gather the babies on their laps for a sing-a-long.

Peter had to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh as he watched Tony sing-along, terribly he might add, to Incy Wincy Spider, helping Abby clap along to the out of tune singing of the parents.

Their final activity of the session was the promised finger painting.

Abby ended up sharing a pallet of baby-friendly paints (“They’re just flour, water and food colouring if you’d like to make them at home, Mommies and Daddies!” Janet had explained with glee) with the little girl sat with her father to the left of them. Peter remembered the man introducing himself as Niall when they had gone around the circle.

Peter flashed Niall a small smile as they both sat watching their babies play in companionable quiet. Niall’s little girl seemed very close to Abby in age, perhaps a month or so older, so the two girls were getting along like a house on fire. Unsurprisingly, things quickly got messy, and it wasn’t long before the girls had moved on from finger painting their sheets of paper, and onto finger painting each other.

“No, no, no, Gabriella!” Niall exclaimed, moving to grab his daughter’s hands from where they were painting a muddy pattern onto Abby’s leggings, much to her delight. “Oh my God, I am so, so sorry,” Niall went on, looking to Peter and Tony with wide eyes.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Tony said easily. “Believe it or not, this is actually Abby on a clean day.”

“But, her clothes…”

“They’ll wash,” Peter added with a smile to the stressing dad. “And anyway, I think she’s giving as good as she gets,” Peter laughed, nodding to where Abby was patting Gabriella’s face with a hand that was absolutely smothered in red paint, a globule of it dripping from Gabriella’s cheek and onto the sweet pink dungarees her dad had dressed her in for the day.

“At least they’re having fun, I guess,” Niall chuckled, his shoulders relaxing now he knew he wouldn’t be chewed out by Peter and Tony.

And they were. Peter’s heart swelled as he watched the two little girls interact, gazing at one another with wide eyes, as though each was sussing the other out, and giggling between themselves, babbling in that secret language they shared. Abby so rarely had the opportunity to play or interact with babies her age. For starters, other than those he met through the foundation, Peter didn’t actually _know_ anyone else with a child Abby’s age. Plus, as much as he tried to not let his new celebrity status affect his life, it was an undeniable fact that him being a quote-unquote _famous person_ now meant that it was much harder to meet people, and even more difficult to build genuine connections.

And, Peter realised, it wasn’t just Abby that was missing out. Peter didn’t really have anyone his own age to hang out with either. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his family, loved spending time with them and watching them dote on Abby. And of course, he had Ned. And more recently, Zack and Vijay, too, who would often join Ned whenever the old friends video called with each other (weird how a publicity scandal could bring people together). In fact, both boys were planning on coming to New York for a visit during the summer, probably sometime around Peter’s birthday, if they could manage to make the dates work. But it wasn’t the _same_. Seeing his friends, old and new, so infrequently was _hard_. And seeing them through a screen once a week just wasn’t enough sometimes. He loved his life, and he knew how fortunate he was, but sometimes Peter missed the simplicity of his high school days; of being able to hang out with Ned whenever he liked and of constantly being surrounded by people his own age, even if it meant dealing with teen gossip and the high school social hierarchy.

Sometimes, despite being surrounded by people he loved, being a single parent was… lonely.

And, when Peter looked at Niall, and some of the other younger parents attending the group, their eyes wide and their hands unsure, just like Peter’s own sometimes, he could see the whisper of that loneliness on their faces too.

“Gabby, c’mon,” Niall sighed, his voice tinged with lighthearted exasperation, breaking Peter out of his spiralling thoughts. “I know the nice lady said it _was_ edible, but that wasn’t an invitation.” Niall leant forward to remove Gabriella’s paint-covered fist from her slobbery hand.

Peter laughed. “I feel your pain,” he said. “What is it with babies and wanting to put _literally_ anything in their mouths?”

“I know!” Niall agreed, laughing. “I swear, I daren't even leave my shoes by the door to the apartment anymore after I once turned my back for two seconds and found Gabby slobbering all over my sneakers!”

“Oh man, tell me about it. Once Abby started crawling, it was game over for leaving anything, anywhere, ever. Thankfully, Tony’s AI, Friday, is pretty well trained at telling one of us when the little-miss is up to no good if our backs are turned, but we still have some pretty close calls.”

“Dude, that’s awesome; like a built-in babysitter!” Niall said, just as Janet called time on their activity and the group for the day. She passed around some baby wipes and both boys set about cleaning up their kids as much as they were able to with a single wipe. “Is the AI system conversational?” Niall asked as he cleaned. “I’ve heard rumours that the Tower had an AI and that it was crazy advanced like that, but that would take some _serious_ coding, I can’t even begin to imagine…” Niall caught himself mid-sentence, visibly cursing himself silently for allowing his mouth to run away with him. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to – oh fuck, now I’m swearing – sorry, I mean, I was just – oh, God.” He sighed. “What I’m trying to say is – is that I didn’t mean to pry or be rude or anything. It’s just, I was planning on studying coding at college before Gabby’s mom got pregnant so I just find that kind of thing super interesting, but I know you must get asked that sort of thing all the time and it must get super annoying so I’m sorry, I just…”

“Breathe, kid,” Tony interrupted, offering the man a kind smile. “I’m Tony Stark, you think I don’t like talking about myself and my toys,” he winked. The majority of the parents and their kids had filed out of the room by now, leaving only their little group and Janet, who was making preparations for the next session, in the colourful room. The two little girls played with some stacking blocks that had been left out while the adults chatted. “Being curious isn’t a crime. In fact, I like to think it’s actively encouraged in this building.” Niall returned Tony’s smile, relaxing once more. “An to answer your questions; yes, she is conversational, isn’t that right, Fri?”

“ _Correct, Boss,”_ came F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice from the ceiling, startling Niall and Janet.

“And you’re not wrong,” Tony smiled, the kind of smile he gave when he knew he’d done something brilliant, “the coding _is_ insane.”

“She can even quote Vines and TikToks,” Peter added brightly.

“Not her intended purpose, but it keeps Pete entertained,” Tony conceded, giving Peter’s hair a playful tousle.

Niall gawped. “Wow.”

“Sorry folks,” Janet interrupted, smiling warmly, “I’m going to have to turf you out, I’m afraid! Our next group is due to begin in just a few minutes.”

They packed away their things quickly, Peter plopping Abby back into her papoose for a safe and comfortable journey back up to the penthouse, before making their way back into the corridor. They rode with Niall and Gabby in the elevator, down to the ground floor, chatting along as they went.

And, in a weird moment of self-reflection, as Peter watched Niall absentmindedly play with Gabby’s fingers while he and Tony chatted about some more intricate aspects of coding that Peter was way too chemistry-orientated to understand, Peter saw a lot of himself in the other man.

He knew it wasn’t wise to judge someone after only meeting them once, be it in a positive light or a negative one, but there was something about Niall. Something in the way he said ‘ _before Gabby’s mom got pregnant_ ’ that reminded Peter of his own circumstances. Something in the way his inquisitive words regarding F.R.I.D.A.Y. had just toppled out of his mouth that reminded Peter of some of the early lab sessions he had shared with Tony, back when their relationship was new and fresh and unsure.

There were a lot of things about Niall that Peter could relate to, and in the mere few minutes they had spent chatting and watching their children play together, Peter hadn’t felt like a _teen dad_ for once, but just like a normal guy, chatting to a new friend, sharing mutually common interests.

It had been nice.

It had been nice to feel normal.

And, it had been nice to make a friend.

“Hey, Niall,” Peter said, just as the elevator was descending it’s final few floors, “maybe we could arrange a playdate or something for the girls some time if you’re free? Abs doesn’t get the chance to play with many kids her own age and they seemed to get along well, I thought? Plus, it’d be nice to get the chance to chat to a fellow dad about all the gross things baby girls do that no one ever warns you about,” Peter chucked, slightly awkwardly. He saw Tony smile out of the corner of his eye. “And Gabby and Abby? They sound so good together, I think they’re destined to be friends.”

Niall’s face flashed with surprise as he cradled Gabby against himself, the little girl half-asleep already from her busy afternoon. “I would – I mean, that would be awesome, Peter, thank you,” he said sincerely, and Peter knew, from the tone of Niall’s voice, that he had been right about that shadow of loneliness he thought he’d seen on the other man’s face.

Peter shrugged, secretly relieved that the other man hadn’t shot the idea down. “I’ll have Friday text you my number and we can get something arranged between now and next week’s baby group if you have time before then?”

“Yeah, definitely!”

“Awesome,” Peter smiled. The elevator dinged as they reached the ground floor of the Tower. They said their goodbyes before the elevator doors closed once more and they began to ascend. 

All afternoon Peter felt lighter, buoyed by the feeling of making a new friend with similar interests, and looking forward to organising a playdate for Abby (and also kind of for himself). A few times that afternoon, Peter caught Tony looking at him, a soft smile on the elder man’s face. And thanks to that ever-present method of silent communication the two of them shared, Peter didn’t need to hear the words to know what Tony was feeling.

Happiness. Love.

Pride.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, it's a privilege and a pleasure to hear your thoughts!   
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Come chat to me on [Tumblr](https://irondadbxtch.tumblr.com/)!)


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